


The Storm

by molossiamerica



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Dipper and Mabel live in Gravity Falls, Feelings are revealed, GF, Mabel and Ford go on vacation, Mentions of Blood, No Romance, Other, Platonic Love, Protective Stan, basically just a lot of feelings and dipper/stan bonding, descriptions of injuries, dipper gets a concussion, dipper mabel ford and stan live in the shack, family fic, gf dipper, gf stan, mentions of injury, stan takes care of dipper
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:31:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molossiamerica/pseuds/molossiamerica
Summary: After Dipper sustains a concussion, Stanley must take care of care of Dipper. However, Dipper may need more than the mending of physical wounds.





	1. Chapter 1

Stan woke to the sound of creaking floorboards.

"'The hell?" The man muttered groggily, sitting up in bed. A quick glance at his alarm clock told him that it was 2:30 AM. Strange; this was way past Mabel's usual midnight hot cocoa.

Rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes, Stan sat up and put on his glasses, then slipped into a pair of loose sweatpants and a tanktop. A sigh escaped him as he shuffled to his bedroom door and then into the hallway, flicking lights on as he went. As he approached the kitchen, he began to speak.

"Mabel, sweetie, I know you're hungry but you really should be asleep—" Stan cut himself off, frowning as he realized two things; one, Mabel was out of town for the week with Ford—something about her wanting to see her mermaid boyfriend and Ford wanting to do some research on the creature—and two, all of the kitchen lights were off with no one in sight. Huh.

Stan turned on his heels, scratching his head as he made his way to the stairs. Stopping in the hallway, he frowned. The front door was slightly ajar, the rain from the storm outside making a puddle on the floorboards. Dark eyes narrowing in suspicion, the man tiptoed his way to the living room and quickly snatched up his baseball bat. Either someone had just come in, or someone had just left, and he was going to find out who and why.

Then, another realization dawned on him, one that sent him rushing up the stairs in a hurry. If he'd heard creaking floorboards, the intruder was (or had been) in Dipper and Mabel's room! Ignoring the noise he was making, Stan pounded up the stairs and skidded to a stop in front of the kids' bedroom. The door was hanging wide open! Holding his bat at the ready, Stan threw himself into the room with a battle cry, ready to hit anyone who dared attempt to hurt his family. Instead, he was greeting with deafening silence. Looking around, he saw Mabel's perfectly made glitter-infested bed empty in her absence. His head swiveled and he saw that Dipper's was equally empty, but different. The white sheets were crumpled from recent use and his worn blue comforter lay in a heap on the wooden floor. Beside it lay his pajamas, and, upon further inspection, Stan noted that his shoes, backpack, and journal were missing.

 _Damn it_. The man sighed, dropping the bat. Mabel had told her great uncles about Dipper's late night adventure escapades, and Stan knew Ford had encouraged the kid to continue, but he'd made Dipper promise he wouldn't do that while at the shack. If something happened to those two, he swore he'd never forgive himself, and after the events of last summer, he was even more cautious. Despite this, neither of the kids had seemed too afraid to adventure, and Dipper was taking it to an extreme. It reminded him of Ford, and the resemblance between the two only made Stanley more nervous. Stan swore, Ford and Dipper's apparent lack of attention to personal safety was going to kill him before them.

So, anxiety and anger swelling up at once, Stan made his way down the stairs and begrudgingly pulled on some pants, a pair of Ford's boots, and one of the several hundred sweaters Mabel made for him and his brother. The wool felt soft against his bare arms and he frowned at the thought of getting it wet, but ultimately decided that he'd better get Dipper as soon as possible. After all, it was raining out, and he was sure the kid hadn't bothered to put on any kind of coat or protective shoes. A thirteen year-old alone in a rainy forest in the middle of the night? Even if Dipper had extensive knowledge of the paranormal aspects of Gravity Falls, it was a recipe for trouble, and it made Stan's heart rate pick up just to think about all the possible danger Dipper could get himself into.

The man snatched a flashlight off the table beside the door, flicking the light on. He shone the light around, relieved to see that the kid had left footprints in the wet ground. Stan began to follow them, frowning as he entered the forest. Dipper hadn't been out long, he knew that, but the kid moved a lot faster than him. What if he was running? Stan didn't see why he would be so eager, but he didn't see why the boy would want to go mystery-hunting at three in the morning either, so he supposed it didn't matter. Moving faster, Stanley ventured a bit further into the forest. As he walked, his light reflected on something metallic and he bent over, picking up a muddy, chewed-up ballpoint pen. If he hadn't been sure before, he was now that it was Dipper he was following.

Then, lightning struck, illuminating the sky with a brilliant flash. Immediately, anxiety bloomed in Stan's chest. Wherever Dipper was, it wasn't safe for him; the rain was picking up rapidly and lightning was never a good sign. He began to move faster, following the footprints in a hurry.

A loud, sickening crack erupted, and Stan looked up toward the source, only to see the top of a pine tree fall a few hundred feet from where he was. Shit. Lightning had struck a tree, and who knew how many more it would hit! Dipper could be anywhere in these goddamned woods, all by himself, with a million and one ways to get hurt. It just had to be now, didn't it? As if these woods weren't dangerous enough as it is, the kid just had to go and pick the day when lightning was touching down every thirty seconds! Birds were screeching madly, animals hurdled every which way, and Stan knew that somewhere, Dipper was caught in the very heart of it.

As another flash of lightning touched down in the forest and Stan heard the telltale 'CRACK!' of another tree toppling over in the vast forest, he felt panic bloom in his chest. Heart pumping rampantly, Stan broke into a sprint, following the seemingly endless trail of small footprints. He looked up, shining his flashlight around, but the prints just kept going!

Lightning came down with another threatening boom and Stanley gasped as he saw a tree much, much closer to him come crashing down. As he watched the top of the tree disappear from his line of view, he heard it.

A scream. Loud and piercing, a sound that would surely haunt him for weeks to come. That was Dipper's scream.

"DIPPER!" Stan hollered at the top of his lungs, launching himself down the trail.

His blood thumped madly in his ears, his heart rate jumped, and the knot of terrible anxiety began wreaking it's havoc in his mind. The rain had soaked through his clothes completely now, but it didn't deter him in the slightest. His breaths were ragged, sweat beading down his temples and mixing with the cool rain. The forest ground was soft and wet, mud splashing all over himself as he rushed forward, his feet stomping over the kid's footprints. Stan's adrenaline was taking over completely, his legs working faster than they had in a long time, his feet aching as they pounded into the soft ground, his stomach churning terribly, but he knew he couldn't stop, he didn't want to stop. Not while the kid was still out there!

Dipper Dipper Dipper _Dipper Dipper Dipperdipperdipper!_

_DIPPER!_

Stan skidded to a stop. A familiar sneaker lay abandoned in the mud at his feet.

Stan's eyes searched desperately for it's mate, hoping against hope that it was attached to it's owner's foot. He gripped the flashlight so tightly in his hand that his knuckles had gone white, the bright beam scanning the area. Then, the light shone on the one thing Stan wanted to see more than anything in the world; the kid, huddled up near a tree, curled in on himself. Stan sighed in relief and called his name, surging forward.

Dipper didn't move.

Frowning, Stan called for him again, running to the tree. Dipper was still curled up, completely still. Stan directed the beam of light onto his great-nephew as he knelt, placing a hand onto the boy's cold, wet shoulder. He shook him lightly, but there was no response. Nothing. Stanley continued to shake his limp body, trembling.

"Dipper!" _No,_ "Kid! Hey!" _Please, kid, please._ "DIPPER!" _Moses, please, please, no, stay with me, stay with me, please don't—_

A cough. Then, in the weakest voice he'd ever heard from the young boy, an "...ugh." Another long pause, and "...S...Stan?"

Stan crumpled. Shoulders slumping, body already shaking as sobs wracked his body. He pulled the boy into his arms, one strong hand cradling the back of his head, the other wrapped gently around his waist, propping Dipper up.

"You okay, kid?" Stan asked, relief overtaking him as he held the boy close.

The boy hesitated for a moment, and Stanley noticed that he was shivering excessively. Then, "...I-It hurts."

Immediately, Stanley pulled back, eyes wide as he searched Dipper's face frantically. Their eyes met, and he saw the hazy, glazed-over look in his great-nephews, as if he wasn't truly comprehending what was happening around him. His body was still limp, his teeth chattering and his body shaking. Something was wrong.

"What hurts? Where?" Stan demanded urgently, eyes wide and fearful.

The boy blinked unseeing eyes at him and let his head roll back. Stan gasped, moving to support Dipper better.

"Hey! Stay with me, Dipper! Where does it hurt?" The older man demanded urgently.

"M-My... My head..."

Stan gulped, maneuvering to lay the boy down once again, conscious of his pace. Whatever was wrong, he didn't want to make it any worse, so he lowered Dipper very slowly and very gently onto his background k, feeling regret bite into him as he realized how quick he'd been to shake him around. Stan took the flashlight he'd discarded on the ground, placing one palm over Dipper's eyes and using the other hand to shine the flashlight onto his head.

Immediately, Stanley bit back a choked cry.

A trail of blood had worked it's way from Dipper's forehead down his face in two neat lines, one caking around his eyelid and the other like a thin river running all the way down to his chin. The boy's shaggy brown hair was obscuring the actual wound, and so Stan set the flashlight down and brushed the shaggy brown hair away from his great-nephew's face as if the boy were a porcelain doll, shattered with one wrong move. After his forehead was clear, Stan once again shone the flashlight down upon him, preparing himself for the worst.

A lengthy, semi-deep cut ran down Dipper's forehead, stopping just before it would peek out from his messy bangs. Blood had caked around the area, and some was still oozing out. As Stan inspected the wound, he found himself getting worried; a simple cut shouldn't be making the kid act so out of it, so what else could have possibly happened?

"Alright, I'm gonna pick you up now, okay? While I'm getting situated you try and tell me what happened, how's that sound?" Stan asked, concerned.

Dipper didn't say anything for a long moment, and Stan was about to prompt him again when the boy's mouth fell open. "The, uh... The branch. Um... Fell... H-Hit me."

Stan blinked in shock, looking around. A waterlogged tree branch lay barely a foot away, and Stan was surprised he hadn't noticed it before. The thing was huge! He lifted it slightly, testing it's weight. Jesus, it was heavy! Stan felt his bottom lip tremble as he realized how lucky Dipper was to be (relatively) alright, and then felt a pang of worry even greater; what if he wasn't? What if it only got worse?

"Moses," he muttered, shaking the last of his worry away. He couldn't break down right now, not when he had a duty to his family. Stan resolved to push his emotions down for now; he could address them later, when he knew for sure that his great nephew was going to be alright. Dipper was more important than anything else at this moment. Hell, Dipper and Mabel were more important than anything else in every moment. Stan loved the kids as if they were own, and this fact only served to add more hurt to the ache in his heart as he looked down at the injured boy before him.

"I'm gonna lift you up now, okay?" Stan said, not bothering to wait for a response.

Achingly slow, Stan took Dipper under the arms and pulled him upward and into him, almost as if he were about to hug him. He tucked an arm underneath Dipper's backside, helping the kid to rest his head on his shoulder. Holding him this way reminded him of when the kids were little. He'd held Dipper like this once when he'd just gotten done with his bottle. The kid had spit up all over his shoulder, but Stan had still felt like the luckiest man alive, even when he was given Mabel and she repeated the process.

"'S r-raining..." Dipper mumbled softly into his great-uncle's ear.

Stan blinked. With all that was going on, he'd completely forgotten that there was still a thunderstorm booming around them. He suddenly remembered how cold and wet he was, and how soaked Dipper was as well. This reminder only served as motivation for him. The sooner he got Dipper home, the sooner he could bandage him, get him into some warm, dry clothes, and call a doctor.

The older man began to walk at a fast pace, thanking all that was holy that their footprints hadn't been completely washed away. Following them, he made good time, making it back to the Shack without a single complaint from Dipper, and all in under ten minutes.

Immediately, he was rushing to his bedroom, laying the kid down on his bed, and beginning to pull off his socks.

"Wha...?" Dipper mumbled weakly, blinking heavy eyelids at his great-uncle with concern.

"You're soaking wet, kid. Don't worry, I'm not gonna look, but you need warm clothes on. Alright?" Stan asked, again not waiting for a response.

He was quick to strip the kid down, and even quicker to replace his soaked clothes for the warmest things he could find; a thick flannel he'd gotten for Christmas a few years back, and a pair of the kid's pajama pants, which he'd hastily taken from the laundry basket. Then, he tucked the boy in all the blankets he could gather while still keeping one eye on him. Dipper was still shivering, but it seemed like it had lessened a little, and Stan took this as a good sign. As soon as Dipper was swathed in the warmest items he could find, Stan gulped.

"How's yer head feeling now, duckling?" He asked affectionately.

Dipper had loved being called that when he was a kid. The first time he'd ever held the sweet boy in his arms, Stan had called him that and the infant's face had lit up, big brown eyes wide and a sweet, innocent laugh bubbling up in his throat. Mabel had preferred 'pumpkin', which Stan still used. Dipper, however, had seemed a bit embarrassed by the use of pet names now, and Stan had found it slightly awkward as well. Well, to Hell with that! When Dipper woke up, Stan was never going to hold back. He cared too much about the kids to ever let them feel as if they weren't special to him.

Dipper licked his dried lips slowly, looking up at his great-uncle with uncomprehending eyes. Stan was patient, giving him a moment to think this over as he knew the boy wasn't in his right mind.

"Hurts," the boy mumbled. "...A lot."

The older man's face fell. He knew it was stupid, but he'd hoped Dipper had felt even a little better. Of course, nothing was ever that simple.

"Alright, ace, I'm gonna call the doctor." Stan informed his great-nephew.

Pulling his odd new phone out of his pocket once again, Stan was quick to get a hold of the local doctor; he had her on speed dial to the insane amount of injuries Ford seemed to sustain with all of his injuries. Although he was considered a genius when it came to academics, Stan thought he was about as dumb as a pile of bricks when it came to taking care of himself. Ford was exasperated with Stanley's constant need to seek out a doctor; _"I'm_ fine, _Stanley. I've been alone long enough to know how to take care of myself._ " However, this only strengthened Stan's resolve, and a doctor was called each time the injury was anything more than minor. Ford should know that he wasn't alone anymore, he didn't have to do it by himself. He could rely on others to help him when he needed it, and if Stanley had to call a doctor every two weeks to prove it, he would.

"Yeah, hey. Sorry, I know it's late. It's not my brother this time, it's one of the kids, h-he hit his head." Stanley explained rapidly, trying to keep the shakiness out of his breath with little success. There was a pause and he nodded. "Alright. Thanks."

"Stan?" Dipper croaked.

Immediately, Stanley disregarded his phone on the bedside table and came forth, looming over his nephew with a soft, worried smile.

"I'm here, Dipper." He mumbled softly. "How d'you feel?"

The boy blinked rapidly, looking up at his great-uncle with a confused gaze. "I... Uh... M-Mabel? Where...?"

Stan's mouth turned down slightly, concerned. "She's with Ford in Mexico, remember? They got on a flight real early this mornin'."

Why didn't he remember? Oh, God, what was wrong? These signs all seemed so familiar! Stan almost thought he'd experienced something similar to what Dipper was going through when he was a kid himself, but his nervous brain was whirring too fast for him to think about anything more than the boy in front of him for more than a few moments. The past faded away and Stan was stuck resolutely in the present at his nephew's side, fretting endlessly over the obvious injury that he couldn't seem to identify.

Oh, Moses, what if it was something serious? What if there was more injuries that he didn't know about? Stan's mind was whirring, every horrible situation he could conjure up suddenly becoming a possible reality. What had he been thinking? Mabel had told him about Dipper's late-night escapades, and yet he'd done nothing to prevent them! He was a terrible guardian, wasn't he? He wasn't fit to raise them; Hell, he couldn't even keep his great-nephew safe for one night without Ford and Mabel here! Stanley couldn't help but agonize over these facts, putting all the fault on himself. He was responsible for Dipper, he was the one who was supposed to make sure he stayed safe, healthy, and happy, and he'd failed. Dipper had been wandering around in the woods, had been knocked unconscious, and now had a head injury. Stanley had been downstairs obliviously snoring away while upstairs, the boy he cared so deeply for was plotting a potentially life-threatening adventure right under his nose.

Did he not pay enough attention? Should he have known, right from the start? The signs must have been there, there must have been something he'd missed, something off about Dipper that day! But what did that make Stanley? Neglectful? Uncaring? Did he not show the kid how much he loved him enough, did he not spend enough time with him, getting to know him? Had he been too dismissive and broken their trust? Would Dipper have told him about this if he'd only thought to ask?

The more Stanley thought, the more distraught he became, and as he leaned over his great-nephew tears burned clear trails down his cheeks. All of his thoughts boiled down to one, undeniable truth: This was his fault.

Meanwhile, Dipper blinked slowly, his brows furrowing. It was similar to the look everyone knew as his 'deep-in-thought' expression, although in this case he wasn't chewing on any pens and seemed more confused than anything.

"...Yeah. Merm... Mermando." He finally answered, snapping his great-uncle back to the present.

Stan smiled, taking that as a sign of Dipper's returning health. "Yeah! She wanted to see 'im and Ford wanted to study 'im. What happened after they left? What'd we do?" The man asked slowly, hoping this would help pinpoint how much Dipper seemed to be confused about and what he remembered. Perhaps this would help explain why he'd thought it was such a bright idea to be outside on his own in the middle of the night.

Again, Dipper was slow to answer, but eventually came to a shaky conclusion; "Stan... T-Took me to ice cream. A-And he got—he got a ch-chocolate cone."

Stanley beamed, wiping his tears away with the back of his shaky, weathered hand. "Yeah! And what about after that? What movie did we watch, eh, dynamo?"

"... _'Curse of the F-Freaky Werewolf Guy'..._ "

"Yeah! Then?"

"...B-Bed."

Stan nodded. "And then?"

Dipper paused for even longer for this time before finally saying. "Then... Then the woods. A-And you saved m-me."

Stanley opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off by the doorbell ringing. He looked down at his nephew and smiled reassuringly, offering gentle words and kissing his forehead before leaving the room.

Before a minute had passed, Stan was bustling back in with the doctor at his side. She carried a large brown bag, setting it down on the ground. A pair of blue rubber gloves sat on each of her hands, and she had a stethoscope slung loosely around her neck. Although it was dark, Stan knew she was still in her pajamas, as the doctor cared not for any sort of vanity when it came to people in need of help. She walked cooly toward Dipper, a small flashlight in one hand and a gentle smile on her face.

"Hello, Dipper. Your uncle tells me you hit your head." She said in the way of pleasantries, although she had already begun to shine the flashlight in his eyes as she spoke.

"Uh—Uh-huh." The boy responded meekly, squinting against the intrusive light.

After a moment of peering into his eyes, the doctor shone the flashlight upward, taking stock of the wound. "The cut is considerably shallow. Clean it well several times a day and cover it with bandages and it should heal fine; it shouldn't leave much of a scar, either." She told Stan calmly.

"Good. Great," Stan said, feeling relief. Then, as he recalled his nephew's memory loss, worry struck him hard once again. "A huge tree branch hit him in the head. He doesn't remember it, or how he got outside or anything."

She nodded, reaching into her bag. After a moment, she pulled out a reflex hammer, taking it to Dipper's knee. The boy jerked slightly and very delayed, causing her to frown. After a few simple tests, she reached a decision.

"He has a concussion." She said simply, turning to Stanley. "Was he unconscious?"

Stan's eyes were wide with shock and worry, one hand clutching the soaked knit sweater he wore. "Yeah. I-I found him lying on the ground in the woods. I wasn't too far behind him, and I heard him scream, so I don't think it was too long. Less than a minute." He answered shakily.

She stared at the boy, considering this. "Well, he does appear to have a concussion... That's very typical, Mr. Pines, nothing to worry about. Temporary unconsciousness, slow and slurred speech, delayed reaction time, confusion, amnesia, they're all typical signs. It's very minor, so you shouldn't worry too much. He'll be fine in a little while; like I said, it's minor, but he should stay in bed or other places where he can rest the majority of the time for at least a week and a half as all the symptoms he's having right now should remain for a few days, and some new ones may appear. I wouldn't advise any heavy levels of physical activity after that for at least a month. While he's in bed he shouldn't be doing anything mentally strenuous, either. It could take up to three months for the symptoms to completely disappear, but he'll be relatively normal again in about two weeks. I'll write a list of common symptoms and leave it out for you, just so you know what you're dealing with."

Stanley gulped, looking down at the boy. He was not going to be happy about that arrangement. An injury had never deterred Dipper from his valiant exploration of the paranormal; Hell, Stanley wondered if anything at all could change his mind. The kid had even managed to convince his parents to let them live in Gravity Falls with Stanley and Stanford permanently; a rather extreme feat for a thirteen-year-old. Of course, he had the help of his eccentric twin sister, and, in all honesty, their parents wouldn't exactly win any 'parent of the year!' awards any time soon; they didn't seem to mind being separated from their children as much as other parents would, and even expressed some gratitude for Stanley and Stanford when they'd agreed to raise them into adulthood. Stanley couldn't understand why anyone would willingly say goodbye to the kids—they were the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him, and he loved him as if they were his own—but some parents didn't share the same sentiment. Hell, his own parents hadn't spoken to him again after they'd kicked him out.

"I'd recommend that you let him sleep as much as he can, but I'd wake him up every few hours, at least for a few minutes. Try to carry a conversation with him, help get him thinking a little. Again, nothing too strenuous. He shouldn't be doing anything that makes him think too hard." The doctor instructed.

Stanley nodded. "Thanks, doc."

The woman looked down at the child laying still on Stanley's bed and offered a small smile. "I wish you all the best," she said, squeezing his shoulder. With a look of surprise, she quickly retracted her hand and took stock of the old man. "I'd advise you to change into some warm clothes and get some rest as well, Stanley. It won't do you any good to stand around in rain-soaked clothes all night." She slipped him a piece of paper.

Blinking, Stan looked down at himself, realizing for the first time that he was, in fact, soaking wet. Not only that, but he was exhausted. Although he was old, the physical exertion was hardly what had made him feel so worn-down; it was the emotional aspect that had really done a number on him. He swore, every time someone he cared about was in danger, he worried a year off his life, and when it was Ford or the kids, he worried four or five. Seeing the kid out in the rain, soaked through to the skin and bleeding from the head, had taken an extreme toll on his mind, and with the worst of it out of his way, his body gave way to pure enervation.

Realizing the doctor was gone, Stanley immediately stripped down, shrugging himself into whatever warm garments he could find. He looked to Dipper, his small frame no longer shaking underneath the thick covers draped over him. He trudged to the bathroom, quickly wetting a towel with warm water. He snatched antibacterial spray and gauze from his medicine cabinet, quickly patching Dipper up. The boy lay, looking up at him with the same confused stare and a small wince of pain every once and a while.

Once he was bandaged up, the older man decided it was time for bed, and told the boy so in a hushed, caring tone. When Dipper nodded in agreement and offered the faintest of smiles in return, his great-uncle sighed out of relief once more. Then, Stan turned to the doorway, intending to sleep in the living room for the night. He didn't want to disturb his great-nephew, but he wanted to be near enough to reach him in a hurry if at all needed. Stan stepped out, only to hear Dipper whimper his name.

He turned on his heel, a bushy grey brow raising as he made his way back toward the bed.

"S-Stay," Dipper mumbled weakly.

Stanley blinked, surveying the area. Sure, there was plenty room for him on the bed; the kid was tiny, after all, but... What if something happened? What if he accidentally pushed him over the side? What if he rolled over on top of him? What if he kicked him or something? Stan hadn't ever been one to move much in his sleep, but he was prone to nightmares in the past, and he didn't want Dipper to be in any more pain than he already was.

"Please... G-Grunkle Stan?" The boy stammered again, his words horribly slurred.

"Alright, kiddo, I'll stay." Stan acquiesced in a murmur, moving to the foot of the bed. He swore, he barely had to hear a 'please' from the kids before he was willing to do whatever they wanted.

Slowly, so as not to disturb his great-nephew, Stanley crawled forward, positioning himself on his side at the other edge of the bed. Making sure there was ample space between them, Stanley maneuvered himself into a comfortable position and took the edge of a blanket, pulling the corner toward him just enough to cover him halfway. Sure, Stan Pines could be greedy in most situations, but his family had always been the exception. He was selfless and stubbornly loyal to those he cared for, no matter what they might have been going through in the past. Whatever people said about him—and they did say a lot—this was the undeniable truth; Stanley Pines would do anything for those he cared about, regardless of what happened to himself as a result.

"...Stan?"

"Yeah?"

"Wha... H-Happened t' me?" Dipper questioned again.

Stanley frowned, his heart sinking. The doctor had said he'd be out of it, but it was still disconcerting to see the boy acting in such a way.

"Y'got in hit in the head pretty hard and got a concussion, duckling."

Dipper seemed to consider this for a moment, but Stanley knew he was really deciphering the meaning of the sentence. His brows had knitted together and he appeared deep in thought, working his lips. "...Oh." He finally said, his voice barely audible even in the hush of the night.

Suddenly, it came rushing back to Stanley. He'd recognized Dipper's symptoms because he'd had a concussion or two himself, back when he was younger. All that boxing combined with a few years on the streets had given Stanley the less-than-pleasant opportunity to experience a wide variety of injuries. From what the man recalled from having a concussion, it was no picnic. Even after the initial confusion wore off, Dipper would probably still have a plethora of vision, coordination, and comprehension problems for the better part of two months. Healing from a head injury was no easy business, that was for sure.

The more Stanley thought about his experience with concussions, the more worried he became for the boy beside him. Although it was a minor one, and even with how reassuring it was to know that he would make a full recovery, it still troubled him to think of everything Dipper would have to go through. As far as Stanley remembered, he had never had a problem with getting injured, it was the healing that had always brought him to his knees. A good rumble excited him, risky adventures and near-death experiences gave him an addicting adrenaline rush, but the results of such misguided attempts to qualm his forever-hungry adventure-craving heart were very undesirable. He could only hope it was different for Dipper.

"Um..." Dipper mumbled, his hand moving across the soft bedspread. After a moment, it connected with Stanley's shoulder, and he let it rest there, beside the man, his dirt-caked fingertips just barely brushing against the older. "Y-You found... found me."

Stan blinked, unsure of what the boy was referring to. After a moment, comprehension dawned on him and he nodded in agreement, smiling softly at the boy. "And ya gave me a heart attack when I did, too." He added, a chuckle escaping him.

"'M'sorry."

"Hey, that's not yer fault. Just don't go playin' around in the woods in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm. My old heart'll give out on me if I see you or yer sister like that again."

Again, there was a long pause, longer than the one before it. They'd been sitting in silence for ten minutes, and Stan had already closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to come, when the kid once again interrupted the hush that had fallen over them in the darkened room.

"Love ya," Dipper said, his tone soft and shaky.

Stanley's dark eyes snapped open, wide with surprise as he looked over at the lanky figure of his great-nephew, now completely still and silent. As he looked at him, Stanley felt emotion welling up in his chest, a pleasant ache that made him realize how much he treasured the two silly twins he'd come to raise. They'd become his own world, his two mischievous, monster-hunting munchkins, more like son and daughter to him than nephew and niece. He loved the kids, cherished every moment he was allowed to spend with them. Even moments like this, when Dipper was laying beside him with a concussion, barely aware of what was happening, Stanley knew he would tuck this memory down in his mind to revisit time and and time again.

The horrible panic that had run rampant in his veins as he looked down at the blood-caked birthmark on Dipper's forehead, the relief at the doctor's admission that the kid would make a full recovery, the worry that nagged at him when he thought of everything the kid would have to endure, the unbridled affection that swept over him when he heard those three little words... These kids made him feel so much more than he'd ever thought possible!

It was one of the rare times that Dipper told him he loved him, and, delirious or not, Stanley would carry the words with him for the rest of his life.

"Heh. Love ya too, kid."


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Stanley was up later than usual. The Shack opened in just under an hour, and he was sure that Soos was already there, checking everything over. Even so, Stanley was reluctant to leave his position at Dipper's side.

Deciding he didn't have much of a choice, he scooted to the edge of the bed and then slipped off. He wondered how much money he could loose if he didn't open at all today, and wondered if he could afford to do so. Ford shared the house with him now, which meant an extra income what with all the money he made selling his inventions, but they had Mabel and Dipper's future to worry about now. Stanley had been putting money in secret college funds for the pair two days after they'd arrived in Gravity Falls for the first time, and Ford as soon as he'd found out a few days after the end of summer.

Stan glanced down at Dipper, then toward his bedside table where gauze and antibacterial spray was. Carefully, Stan re-cleaned and bandaged his great-nephew the boy groaning. Whether it was because of the pain or because he'd been woken up, Stanley didn't know, but he hoped it was the latter.

"I'm gonna go get you something to eat and talk to Soos and Wendy, okay?"

"Mhmmmm," Dipper responded after a moment, big eyes closing before Stanley could even turn away.

"Woah," Wendy said when Stan walked in, still in the dissheveled and mismatched clothes he'd worn to bed the night before.

"Where's the suit, Mr. Pines?" Soos asked, materializing behind the older man and making him jump.

"I'm not coming in for the next few days. Dipper's got a concussion."

Immediately, Wendy and Soos' mouths fell open in shock.

"What?" Soos asked at the same time as Wendy exclaimed, "Dude! What happened?!"

Stan rolled his shoulders and shook his head a bit, shaking the sleep off. "Woke up late last night to the kid sneaking off into the woods during a thunderstorm."

"WHAT?! No way! There's fallen trees all over out there!" Soos exclaimed worriedly, eyes bulging almost comically.

"Yeah, I know. He ran off into the woods during the worst of it. I got out there a little late and heard him scream. By the time I got out there he was knocked out in the mud and bleedin' from his head. Doc got over just in time and said he had a concussion."

Wendy's brows were furrowed, a deep frown set upon her face and worry in her eyes. "That's crazy! What was he thinking?!"

"Dunno. He's not exactly coherent yet, but I plan to ask him when he is. Anyway, that's why I'll probably take the next three days or so off. I don't want him to get out of bed or be alone. You guys can come and check on him whenever it's not busy. Take turns being Mr. and Mrs. Mystery and I'll give you each thirty bucks extra."

"You got it, Mr. Pines. Tell Dipper I said I hope he feels better and that I'll be in to see him soon!" The handyman exclaimed, already eagerly placing Stan's signature fez onto his head.

"Yeah, same," Wendy added quickly.

"'Course. Thanks," Stan said. He offered a grateful smile and then turned, exiting the room.

The old conman made quick progress to the kitchen, beginning to prepare breakfast as he did every morning. By now, it was second nature to set a burner on medium and set his best pancake-making pan atop it, ready to wow the kids and Ford with his stellar pancake-making skills as he did every day. Resisting this urge as he had decided Dipper needed a more nutritious breakfast, Stanley instead fried two eggs, cut up some fruit, and poured a tall glass of milk for his nephew. Eager to get back to Dipper, Stan sped down the hall to his bedroom and entered, only to stop short in the doorway.

He'd walked in just in time to see Dipper flop belly-first onto the wooden floor.

Stanley let out a cry of shock, hurriedly setting the plate and glass down on his desk before he rushed forward, bending over. He slowly pulled Dipper upward, slipping an arm around him to support his head and cradle his body protectively. Then, he was laying the younger down in bed once more, face ashen as he looked down at him.

"Why were you up?!" He asked, louder than he intended due to the adrenaline still coursing through him. Seeing the boy fall in such a harsh way had given him a horrible bout of panic.

Dipper's eyes went wide in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. After a long moment of stuttering, he finally managed, "Y-You... Gone. Um... I-I wanted to, uh, f-find you."

The man gaped, guilt washing over him at the words. "I was just fixin' ya something to eat, 's all. Don't go wandering around lookin' for me, alright? I'm takin' a few days off to stay with you, so you don't haveta worry about me being gone. 'M stayin' right here." He reassured lovingly.

A bright, pure smile took over Dipper's face and he hummed happily, apparently finding a lot of comfort in the words of his great-uncle.

"So, you hungry at all?" Stan asked, breaking him away from his oblivious humming.

Dipper's brows furrowed and his mouth turned downward in a frown. After a moment, he shook his head, looking disgusted by the mere prospect of food.

Stanley sighed, remembering the doctor's note still perched on his bedside table. He picked it up, squinting to read writing as he wasn't wearing his glasses. Of course, nausea and refusal to eat were scrawled in the tight writing of the doctor. He set it down, sighing heavily.

"What about a few bites?" The old man tried.

"Nu-uh," Dipper whined.

"It's not good to not eat, yanno." Stanley urged, frowning.

Dipper wrinkled his nose and shook his head very lightly, the action making Stanley wince, concerned that it might have some kind of effect on his concussion.

"Please, duckling?" The older man tried, hoping to appeal to the more sentimental side of his nephew. "Just a little bit, for me?"

At this, Dipper's eyes flickered toward the plate and, after a moment of what seemed like careful consideration, he nodded decisively. His great-uncle let a smile sip onto his face, relieved. He didn't want to force Dipper to eat, but he also didn't want him to go without eating, and he was grateful that he didn't have to choose one of those two options.

Stan moved forward quickly, approaching Dipper and slipping his hands underneath his arms. "'S okay, I'm just helpin' ya to sit up,"he informed at the small whine of protest that left his nephew's mouth. Then, he'd very carefully lifted the boy, scooting him up and helping to prop him up against the wall. "Comfortable?"

Dipper gave a slow nod of affirmation, then reached out for the plate. Stanley was happy to take the food off his desk and place it in front of Dipper, holding a plastic fork out to him. Dipper accepted it, turning it to the food after a moment of hesitation. He began to eat, taking slow, tentative bites of the food. Stanley watched, trying to stifle laughter every time the younger missed his mouth and then looked confused when he began to chew on nothing. By the time he was done eating, half of his breakfast lay in his lap, but Stanley was just glad he'd managed to get some food into him. He persuaded Dipper into a quarter of the milk, finishing the rest of the drink off himself.

Afterward, Stanley debated carrying Dipper to the living room so he could watch TV, but decided against it. Instead, he got comfortable beside the boy and read a book aloud until Dipper had begun to slip sideways, slumping against his uncle. He rested his head against the man's shoulder, falling asleep the moment the older slipped an arm around him, holding him securely.

"Mr. Pines?"

Stanley jolted awake to the sound of Wendy's voice, looking over in surprise. She stood in the doorway, a soft smile on her face and her phone out, camera pointed at the two.

"That's something for one of Mabel's photo albums for sure," she said, grinning.

Stanley blinked, his eyes abruptly going wide. "Mabel!" He exclaimed after a moment.

Wendy blinked, one brow hiked up. "What's wrong?" She questioned.

"They have no idea that Dipper's got a concussion," Stanley said, huffing.

He could already imagine the call. Stanley, what were you thinking? You didn't check on him at all, even after what Mabel told you? Why didn't you go to the stairs right away instead of to the kitchen? Why did you waste time getting dressed when you should have been rushing out to get him? This could have all been prevented if you'd only been more careful! You should have been there! Stan felt the guilt setting in already, and he hadn't even looked in the direction of his phone. Although, this was most likely because he knew this would not be Ford's reaction; it was everything Stanley had been agonizing over since Dipper had gotten injured, all the faults he'd placed on himself.

"Dude, you should probably do that. I'll chill with him for a few minutes, no sweat." Wendy offered, stepping into the room before Stan could protest.

"Thanks," Stan said, sighing. He slowly eased Dipper away from him, hoping not to wake him, but the boy opened his eyes after a moment and stared at him, confused. "I'm gonna go out and call Ford and Mabel, okay? Wendy'll stay here with you, that sound good?"

Dipper's eyes flickered to Wendy, standing at the side of the bed wearing a gentle, cheerful smile. "Hey, dude! How're you feeling?" She asked, keeping her tone light.

The kid smiled lightly, attempting to roll onto his side with little success. After a moment, Wendy took his shoulder and helped him turn. Then, she took a seat beside him, already beginning to chat about a random movie she'd seen as Stanley left the room, phone in hand.

 

 

Ford was startled out of his research by his phone.

The loud, incessant wail of the device broke him from his half-finished extensive sketch of Mermando's anatomy, using a picture he'd taken earlier on the same device. Although there was a lot he didn't understand about modern popular culture and technology, he marveled at the advancements made. You could use your phone to take and share pictures, communicate in a text-based format, play video games, see others in real time even if they were halfway across the world, create a virtual calendar, and so much more! It was amazing! Ford had never even though such a device could exist, which made Mabel and Dipper laugh.

"How can you create a portal you can use to travel through different dimensions with, but never think of taking pictures with your phone?!" Mabel had asked when she and her brother had first shown him a smartphone, surprised and amused by the idea that such a familiar thing could be so foreign and amazing to Ford.

Sighing, Ford picked up the device, raising a brow as he read the name on the screen. Stanley? Why would he be calling so early? Ford checked his watch, brows furrowing. It was just past noon, shouldn't he be giving his first tour of the day around now? Odd.

Stanford brushed a finger across the screen, answering the call, and then raised the device to his ear.

"Stanley?" He asked immediately.

The man on the other end let out a breath before responding. " _Hey._ "

Ford frowned. What was his brother getting at? Calling to say hello? That was unusual. He'd called Mabel mid-afternoon yesterday to chat, but Ford hadn't thought Stanley would call him as well. It was odd, and not at all like him. After all, Stanley was prone to having one of the kids pass the phone to Ford if he had something to say when they weren't in close proximity because it allowed him to speak to the kids as well.

"Is everything alright?"

His brother sighed. " _Not really. I mean, yeah, it is now, but... No. It's Dipper._ " His tone was sad, almost grave.

Immediately, Ford stiffened a bit, worry shooting through him. He, like his brother, was extremely protective of his great-niece and nephew, and cared very deeply for him as if they were his own. The thought of something happening to one of them immediately put him in a state of panicked urgency.

"What happened? Is he alright?" Stanford demanded harshly into the phone, heartbeat increasing.

" _Yeah, yeah he's fine! Well, I mean, he'll be fine soon... He has a concussion._ " Stanley answered.

"What?!" Ford cried, shocked. "What happened?!"

" _He was wandering in the woods late last night during a storm. I heard him sneaking out, but by the time I got to him he was unconscious. A tree branch fell and hit him in the head, left a little cut, too._ " Stan explained, his voice a bit shaky. " _The doc said it's only minor, and that he should be fine in a week, he just needs to avoid a lot of physical stuff, y'know?_ "

"Why was he—doesn't he know how dangerous that is?! He could have gotten hurt much, much worse than that! Not only by any sort of naturally occurrence, but the amount of anomalies that prowl around in the woods there...! Moses, Stanley, it's a miracle you were there." Ford said, the spike in his heart rate causing his words to come out much faster and more disconnected than he'd have liked.

" _...Yeah._ " His brother responded dryly.

"What's wrong?" Ford asked.

" _I should've gotten out there sooner. He woke me up, and I thought it was Mabel 'cause I was still half asleep so I went to the kitchen... Then I wasted another minute getting some clothes on before I went out. I was so close, Ford, I heard him scream. I bet I could've gotten to him before he hit his head if I'd just gone out a few seconds sooner._ " Stanley's voice was strained and shaky.

"None of that was your fault. Dipper has a thirst for the supernatural, and he gets himself into dangerous situations trying to find answers. He's a lot like me in that way, he..." The man trailed off, eyes widening in horror as he realized what he'd done.

This wasn't Stanley's fault, it was his! He was the one constantly encouraging his niblings to go off and explore! Of course, he'd never want them to be in any danger, and he always sought to accompany them when he thought there was any danger present, but that was easy to misunderstand! He'd wanted the kids to further their thirst for adventure, but he'd never meant for them to do anything illogical! Of course, he didn't always set the best example; he was injured a fair amount in his own adventures, but he'd thought the kids would see it as an example of what not to do!

" _Ford?_ "

"I-I... Don't blame yourself, Stanley. He would have never run off like that if it hadn't been for me, I—I've been encouraging this sort of behavior! Moses, this is all my fault, I should have known he'd take it to the extreme!"

" _What? Ford, no, c'mon! He made his own choice to go out there! It was my fault for not getting out there in time or checking on him even when Mabel warned us._ "

"You saved him! It's not your fault in the slightest! I'm the one who's always telling him to seek out answers!" The elder twin argued, slightly offended.

Of course, the two both had an extremely high paternal instinct, which lead them each to believe that the actions of their niblings had somehow been caused by their own actions, as well as any subsequent consequences. When they did something right, they were the proudest they'd ever felt, but when something bad happened... They felt as if they'd done everything wrong, felt as if it was all their fault. Especially when there was any kind of pain, emotional or physical, involved. After all, it was their responsibility to take care of the kids now, and what kind of guardians were they if they failed to protect them? Guilt had fallen heavy upon Stanford, feeling as if his own recklessness had contributed to Dipper's, and Stanley was the same, feeling as if he had wasted time that could have been used to prevent harm from befalling his great-nephew.

" _You couldn't have known he'd do this! You always tell him to be safe and wait until you can come with, anyway! You know how he is sometimes; he doesn't care what happens to him as he long as he gets to the bottom of whatever mystery he's solving._ "

These words did reassure Stanford slightly, and he felt his pulse slowly returning to normal. "The same goes for you, you know. You threw yourself into the woods during an obviously dangerous storm to help him, and that was incredibly brave in it's own right. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You did everything you could, and you prevented any further damage. Dipper is old enough to know better than to wander off in the middle of the night, let alone during a storm. I'm just glad you got there when you did."

There was a slight pause before Stanley spoke again. " _Thanks, Ford. Anyway, I just wanted to let ya know what was going on... Will you, uh, pass it on to Mabel for me?_ "

Ford nodded despite knowing Stanley couldn't see him. "Of course. You just focus on making sure Dipper is alright."

" _Yeah, sounds good._ " Stanley replied. There was another pause. " _...Ford?_ "

"Yes?"

" _Do we ground him?_ "

Stanford hesitated, thinking this over. "I suppose we ought to, when he's well. From what I know of concussions, he shouldn't be out and about much anyway; perhaps that could serve as a way to ensure that he stays inside and out of trouble while he recovers."

On the other end of the phone, Stanley let out a chuckle. " _Hell, I don't think much of anything can stop the kid when he gets somethin' into his head. I'll wait to ground him until you get back; he listens to you more than me._ "

Stanford raised a brow. "He does?"

" _You can't tell? He... He respects you, y'know?_ "

A frown worked it's way into Ford's face, and he ran a six-fingered hand through his hair as he did when confused. "He respects you too, Stanley."

" _Well, yeah, but..._ " His brother trailed off.

"But what?"

" _...You know. He... He likes you a lot._ "

"Well, I would think he likes both of us quite a bit!"

" _Yeah, 'course he does, it's just... Yanno... You a little more than me._ "

Ford's jaw dropped, his eyes bulging. As he spoke, he couldn't keep the shock from his voice, completely surprised by his twin's words. "What? Stanley, that's not true!" He argued hurriedly, completely in awe.

" _...Right. Anyway, I should go._ "

"Wait, Stanley, I—"

" _Tell pumpkin I said hey. You two stay safe, alright?_ "

Ford, resigning himself, sighed. "Of course. Tell Dipper I said that I hope he feels better when he's coherent."

" _Got it. Later, Sixer._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so late!


	3. Chapter 3

Stanley walked back into his room just in time to hear Dipper's slurred, loopy voice.

"Wendy—W-Wendy you look sooooooooooooo p-pretty," the boy burst out.

His uncle grinned, approaching the bed. It was common knowledge that Dipper had once had a crush on Wendy, and although he was over it, the occassional blushes and awkward comments were bound to happen between the two. Of course, in the moment Dipler was bold, too out of it to care about any embarrassment his comments might cause.

"Hittin' on her the minute I leave, eh?" Stanley teased, and Wendy looked up with a grin.

"He woke up a few minutes ago. He was asking about you." She told him, brushing some of her long red hair over her shoulder with a smile.

Stan raised a gray brow and then looked down to his nephew, who was now beaming dopily at him.

"Staaaaaaaan," he suddenly whined, reaching out. He grasped randomly, his uncoordinated hand searching from a part of Stanley that he could latch onto.

His uncle accommodated him, nudging his hand closer. Dipper wrapped his hand around two of his fingers, reminding Stanley of the kid as a baby, his sweet big eyes and smile as one of his minuscule hands closed around Stan's pinkie.

"Yeah?" The man asked.

"R-read me another story."

Stanley pretended to frown disapprovingly. "Whaddya say?"

The younger boy pursed his lips, confusion evident in his expression. After an extensive period of time, the boy seemed to comprehend the question and his eyes lit up with understanding. "Please?" He asked, looking extremely satisfied at his ability to use his manners.

"There ya go. Yeah, I'll read ya another story. Shove over." Stan teased, snatching a book off the floor and then crawling as cautiously as he could onto the bed.

"I'll get back to work. You two dudes have fun. Dipper, you feel better, alright? I expect you to be healthy for our movie marathon next Saturday." She teased, ruffling his hair very lightly.

Dipper mumbled something incoherent and laughed to himself as she left the room.

"Tell Soos he can come in any time!" Stanley called after her.

The boy beside him blinked big town eyes at Stanley in wonder. "Soos can fix my head," he said hopefully, "with ductape."

At this, Stan couldn't help but to laugh uproariously. Concussion Dipper was funny once he managed to forget the fact that a concussion was a very concern-worthy injury. He'd have time to fawn over his great-nephew with immeasurable worry, but he figured that whenever Dipper was awake, it was best to try and keep things as light and happy as he could. After all, he didn't want to go and worry his great-nephew; that might cause him to think too hard and give himself some kind of panic attack worrying about his own health. With the amount of over-analyzing Dipper did, it wouldn't surprise Stanley if his concussion-addled brain immediately went to the worst possible conclusion and ran with it.

After the last of his laughter had died out, the elder began to read. He didn't care much for books, really, but his brother seemed to leave all sorts of them lying around in the most random of places, some eventually getting whisked away into the depths of Stanley's room like the one he now held in his hand. Luckily, it wasn't any sort of nerd boom but an old fairy tale, so it wouldn't bore Stanley to sleep before he Dipper could begin to feel tired. Stan would never admit it, but he liked fairy tales; the reminded him that some people saw a better, happier way to life, one where everything always worked out. Stan had never previously believed that he could have his own happy ending, but after he was able to swing joint custody of the kids with his brother, his outlook changed a bit. After all, it was truly his own happy ending.

Stan had been reading for twenty minutes when the telltale signs of fatigue began to overcome Dipper. He yawned tiredly, blinked slower, and began to shift under the blankets, making himself more comfortable. Despite seeming engrossed in the story, no one was immune from the call of sleep, and Dipper was soon heavy against his great-uncle, having given in to the pull. Stanley had smiled fondly, eased the kid to lay down completely, and tucked him in. Afterward, he'd taken a small nap and, upon waking up, had retreated to the living room.

He visited his room several times, helping Dipper with whatever was necessary. He had to wake the kid up every time, and he made sure to hold short, casual conversations with him like the doctor recommended, just to get him thinking again without thinking too hard. Their conversations always involved Mabel; Dipper would bring her up insistently, asking how she was and what she was doing and if she was having fun on her trip as if it was her speaking to him instead of his great-uncle. Usually, Dipper didn't seem to want to be awake for more than twenty minutes at a time, and as far as Stan knew he didn't wake up without prompting.

The routine continued, Stanley checking on Dipper a few times every hour, until it was around midnight. He hadn't realized that he'd dozed off in his chair, the TV still on and playing some soap opera, until he'd heard the familiar creaking of the old floorboards and his eyes flickered open.

After the initial confusion of being woken up, Stanley's eyes adjusted and he looked up, his dark eyes falling upon the form of his great-nephew. His slight frame leaned heavily in the doorway, his shoulders slumped and shaking. Stanley frowned, looking up into his nephew's face. It was then that he saw the tears, two neat trails running from Dipper's red eyes, past his runny nose and wobbling lips.

"Woah, what's wrong, kiddo?" Stanley questioned worriedly, standing up.

Dipper took this as his cue to move forward as well and pushed away from the door frame, walking evenly for the first few steps before he began to stumble. He was moving quickly, and Stanley mimicked his pace, meeting him halfway. Dipper slammed into him, flinging an arm around his great-uncle's waist. He was shaking profusely, giving Stan flashbacks to the previous night, and he wondered if this was another side-effect. He'd studied the paper given to him by the doctor closely, but it could have been a less common one that she'd forgotten to write down.

"Hey, kiddo, you okay?" Stanley asked, looking down at the boy clinging to him. "You shouldn't be on your feet. Let's getcha back to bed, eh?" He said, trying to keep his voice even for Dipper's sake.

"No!" Dipper whined, his voice muffled in his great-uncle's chest.

Stan frowned, concern etched into his features. "Hey, what is it?" He asked, tone harsher than he intended.

The boy said nothing, only digging his fingers deeper into the fat around Stanley's middle.

"Hey! Dipper, c'mon, talk to me. What happened?" Stanley demanded, wincing a bit at the tight grip. "If ya don't tell me what's wrong, I can't help." He added, exasperated. Then, a thought struck him and he felt his stomach twist with worry. "Does it hurt?"

The boy in question pulled back enough to look into his uncle's face and shook his head. Stanley's heart wrenched at the sight of more tears and his brows furrowed. A feeling of uselessness had settled over him and it grew the longer Dipper waited to explain himself. If Stanley didn't know what was wrong he couldn't help him, and he felt horrible about it. Seeing someone he cared so deeply for in pain and knowing he couldn't help was crippling, and he was desperate to find a way to ease some of the trouble in the heart of the boy he treasured so.

"Nightmare," Dipper finally sniffled. "E-Everyone... and I c-couldn't... They w-were all..."

At these words, the older man drew in a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding. Relief filled him, realizing that it wasn't physical and that he could, hopefully, help to ease this pain.

"Hey, hey, don't worry 'bout that," Stanley mumbled softly. Gently, he hooked his hands under Dipper's arms, lifting him up. He brought the boy to his chair, settling upon it with the younger in his lap, his legs splayed across Stanley's and his head rested on the man's chest. The boy's brown hair stuck out oddly all over the place, casting strange shadows across Stanley's figure by the dim light of the TV.

Dipper shook, which lead Stanley to place a protective arm around him. He knew it wasn't from the cold, but the elder took a blanket off the floor with his free hand and laid it over their legs anyway. He hoped the soft material might aid in soothing the boy a little bit.

"'S okay, ace, you're here with me. Ain't nothin' to worry about, we're all safe."

"M-Mabel," Dipper retorted. "And Ford..."

"They're in Mexico, duckie. Remember that?"

"Y-Yeah, but... H-how do we know they're okay?!" Dipper demanded harshly.

Stan noted with happiness that the kid was beginning to gain his ability to speak properly again, but the happiness was short lived. Dipper was worrying too much, which meant thinking too much, which wasn't good for his concussion.

"I was just talkin' to Ford earlier today, alright? They're probably asleep right now, but we can call 'em first thing tomorrow morning, okay? I promise you they're safe." Stanley reassured in the calmest voice he could manage.

Dipper nodded, accepting the words. He wasn't shaking as much anymore, and his breathing rate seemed to have evened out a bit too. Sniffling replaced his crying, which was a relief to Stanley; it made his heart ache to see anyone cry out of fear, let alone one of the most important people in his life. Another few moments of silence helped to calm his nephew for the most part, and the boy was now leaning against Stanley, eyes half-lidded and obviously tired.

"Wanna go back to bed?" The older man said, keeping his voice low.

Surprising his great-uncle, Dipper let out a whine of protest and buried his face in the man's chest, one hand gripping tightly to the shoulder of Stanley's worn white tanktop. Dipper's nose was biting painfully into Stanley's chest, but the man wasn't as concerned with that as he was with trying to help the boy get rid of his nightmares.

"Are we campin' out in the living room tonight?" Stanley asked.

Dipper nodded into his chest and mumbled something that was completely incomprehensible, muffled by Stanley's chest and half-slurred anyway. Over the course of the day, his ability to speak clearly had improved slightly, but much of his words were lost on Stanley, converted into random gibberish by the time they met the old man's ears. When you added the speech problems caused by the concussion to the drunken-sounding voice Dipper adopted whenever he was tired, whatever he'd been trying to say was long gone.

"Alright, sounds good. TV on or off?" Stan asked in response to the nod.

"O-Off," Dipper mumbled, pulling back a bit.

Stan nodded and turned the TV off, then looked around. There was a blanket beside them on the floor and he scooped it up, wrapping it around himself and his nephew. Once they were both tucked in, Dipper's head resting on Stanley's shoulders, the elder placed a gentle hand behind Dipper's head, supporting it a bit more as he shifted to get comfortable. After all, he didn't know how much shaking it would take to make the boy's concussion any worse, and he didn't want to find out. After he had made sure that he was comfortable so he wouldn't be jostling the boy around, he helped to get his nephew situated and completely comfortable as well. This took a bit longer, as Stan had to try and decipher what Dipper wanted from the vague, mumbled, and stuttering sentences his nephew was prone to due to his injury. Eventually, Dipper was cozy with one arm slung around Stanley's neck, the other resting at his side, both legs over Stanley's, and sat in Stanley's lap, as close to the man as he could possibly get. Stanley wrapped a protective arm around his torso, and the two were out like a light.

 

 

Bright light shining into his eyes woke him from the deep, comfortable sleep he'd been in. Frowning, the boy cracked open one dark eye and peered around, finding that a conveniently placed beam of sunlight was hitting him directly in the face. It made his eyes and head hurt, so he turned away and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to burrow further into the warm mass beneath him.

Wait.

What was he sitting on?

Dipper cracked an eye open and tilted his head up, surprised to find that he was perched in his Grunkle Stan's lap, leaning heavily against him, and with very vague memories of how he'd come to be there. The last few days were a complete blur, but he did remember Stan taking extra special care of him for some reason. If the hazy memories of breakfast in bed and being in his great-uncle's room weren't enough, the idea of being curled up in his lap all night assured Dipper of that. After all, his great-uncle tended to be more affection with Mabel than he was with Dipper, and the boy was sure that Stanley didn't care for him as much as his sister.

Of course, he knew that Stanley cared for him; it was obvious that he did, with everything they had been through. It was just that Stanley loved Mabel a bit more than he loved Dipper. That, the boy knew, and was mostly at peace with. Most people liked Mabel better anyway; her bubbly personality, corny jokes, and unwavering optimism left everyone charmed, whereas Dipper's initial awkwardness and tendency to like things on the more nerdy side tended to scare people away, or bore them away in certain cases. His Grunkle was no different.

This didn't bother him too much. In fact, he rarely thought of those facts most of the time, but it was hard not to think about it when something so odd as cuddling with his Grunkle occurred. Stanley was much more affectionate with Mabel, and he moments where he did little more than put an arm around Dipper or hug him for a few seconds were rare. Dipper didn't mind this. At least, that's what he told himself. Pretending as if it didn't matter when Stanley scooped Mabel up and grinned at her and called her sweetheart and seemed to care about her more than anyone else, even more than Ford. It didn't bother him. Stanley loved him too, just not as much. No one loved him as much as they loved Mabel, and that was alright. Hell, Dipper didn't even love himself as much as he loved Mabel. None of that bothered him, but that did make his current position all the more confusing.

What had happened that had made Stanley feel the need to let him sit on his lap and cuddle with him all night? At least, Dipper thought it had been all night... His memory was hazy and the events of the last few days felt like a foggy dream, but he was rather sure that he had, at some point late last night, been eased into his Grunkle Stan's lap while reassuring words were whispered into his ear and a strong, familiar arm was placed around him.

The more he contemplated the events that could have potentially caused such a rare event to take place, the more painful a dull ache that had been residing in his head got. Slowly, it seemed to consume him, slowing his mind. His thoughts turned to mush and gave way to simpler ones, ones that were more concerned with self-preservation and easing the sudden pain that was building within. Dipper brought a hand to his head and pressed down in a misguided attempt to rub some of the pressure away, only to pull his hand back at the sudden sting and let out a sharp cry of pain.

His hand had met his shaggy hair first, then some sort of cloth bandage, and then they'd connected with something on his forehead that made him jolt with instant pain when he touched it. It was still throbbing now, and his heart was pounding. The headache was getting worse until it had increased to a cranium-cracking pressure, a pain that was driving the young boy crazy. He whined, wriggling feebly against his uncle to try and gain his great-uncle's attention. For some reason, his movements and mouth seemed to be impaired, and it was hard to make himself do what he wanted to. This resulted in erratic thrashing and nonsensical yelling as he tried to rouse Stanley.

At last, his attempts were successful, and the man beneath him sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes. Seeing Dipper kicking around with a pained expression on his face sent Stanley into an immediate panic mode, and the arm securely around the boy tightened. Worry swept over his face in a wave, his grey brows furrowing and his muscles tensing.

"Woah, what's wrong?" The old man asked worriedly, pulling Dipper closer to him as if it would protect him from whatever was going on.

"M-My..." The boy trailed off, struggling to find the words. Nothing in his body was cooperating, nothing would function the way it should! His lips were like jelly and his tongue like lead, the two unable to work together. He struggled to get even the most basic sentences past his wobbly lips, even with the very intense and clear thoughts in his mind. "My h-head! Headache...!" He managed after a moment.

Stanley's raw protective instinct kicked in and he heaved himself out of his chair, cradling Dipper carefully. He made fast work of walking to the kitchen, then helped the boy into a chair. Dipper wriggled, looking uncomfortable and pained, but said nothing. He waited, watching his great-uncle fill up a glass of water with desperate, dark eyes. After a moment, Dipper held up a shaky hand and Stanley handed it over cautiously, eyeing the boy closely to make sure he wouldn't drop it.

Dipper downed the water greedily, tilting his head back to drink as much as he could. When he was finished, he put the glass down on the table and sucked in two deep, raspy breaths. His hear rate had decreased, his hands felt less shaky, and he'd generally cooled down. He felt much better and much more in control of himself.

"Thanks," he said after a moment, the simple utterance sounding more like himself than he'd sounded at all yesterday.

Stanley seemed to take this well, beaming as if Dipper had just single-handedly saved the world by being able to speak properly. He came forward and embraced his nibling, ecstatic laughter bubbling up in his throat and echoing throughout the empty room.

"No problem, kiddo," he said after a moment, expelling the last of a chuckle from his voice. "How're ya feeling?"

Dipper offered a weak smile and rubbed at the side of his head, careful to avoid any of the areas that hurt. "Better... What happened to me, though?"

All traces of excitement were washed from Stanley's face in an instant. His hands came to grip Dipper's shoulders, squeezing him lightly. His eyes, brown and worn, looked into the eyes of the younger boy with deep-set worry. The feeling seemed to have etched it's way into every line in Stan's face, suddenly giving the man the look of someone who'd been through too much. He was studying his great-nephew, searching for something Dipper didn't know.

"You don't remember?" Stanley asked worriedly. "You have a concussion. I found you in the woods and—"

The woods.

The storm.

The kitchen faded away, replaced by the sudden memory of the terrifying night.

Trees creaked around him, the wind bit harshly into him, and the mud stuck to his shoes, pulling them down upon the earth as if they hoped to trap the boy. The whole night had felt extremely foreboding, but Dipper had decided to throw caution to the wind. He wanted to see one of the forest monsters Ford had written down in his most recent journal, and this was his opportunity to do so.

He hadn't been afraid at first. Dipper had been through much worse than a measly storm in the woods, after all. He'd survived what was almost the end of the world, he could survive a little thunder and lightning! Besides, he was sure there was nothing to be afraid of anyway. Whatever lurked in the woods had been recorded by his Grunkle Ford, and Dipper had pored over the pages prior to his escapade to make sure he was prepared for every possible encounter with one of the creatures in the book. There was nothing supernatural that could get to him, and so he assumed he was safe. It was a common mistake, underestimating nature. Just because something paranormal couldn't hurt him didn't mean that something normal couldn't hurt him.

He'd become afraid when he realized that the forest was collapsing around him. Everywhere he turned, a tree was creaking, moaning, and then crashing to the ground with a sound that was even more startling than the crack of violent thunder that had consumed the night. Dipper had wanted to leave and immediately begun to backtrack his way to the Mystery Shack, but it wasn't long before he realized the real danger of the situation he'd gotten himself into.

He hadn't heard the snap of strong bark crumbling, the groan of a tree as it fell over, it's branches being knocked off and spiraling in every direction, until it was too late. He'd decided to glance up just as one of the wayward branches came hurtling toward him. He let out a bloodcurdling scream as it rushed down to meet the boy.

The wind whipped around him, the rain bit harshly into him, and the branch hit him harshly on the head. He had stumbled and fell, slamming into a rock.

Everything had gone dark.

Everything after that was hazy, distorted, but he knew enough. Stanley had come after him, had carried him out of the forest and gotten him home safe. That must have been a day or two ago at least, based on what Dipper knew about concussions. This whole time, his great-uncle had stayed at his side, had nursed him back to health, and the boy suddenly felt terribly embarrassed and ashamed. From what he recalled, he'd been utterly defenseless, and based on what he didn't recall, very out of it. He must have worried Stanley sick.

Dipper's heart swelled with love and appreciation and he looked up at the older man, flinging his arms around his neck with bravado. "Thanks, Stan." He said. "You saved my life. For, like, the hundredth time."

Stan chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made Dipper's heart swell. Even though he'd seriously messed up and caused more trouble than he was worth, his great-uncle still loved him, was still willing to take care of him. This wasn't the first time Stanley had been the one to pick up the pieces of Dipper's messes, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last, but at least he knew that someone would stick by his side even so.

"Y'know, Ford and Mabel are worried sick 'bout you. Mabel wanted to talk to you, but every time I got a call from 'em, you were asleep. Wanna say 'hi' after I make you some breakfast?" Stanley asked, standing up. Out of habit, he began to ruffle Dipper's hair, only to retract his hand quickly and look down at the boy with concern. "Sorry. Did that hurt?"

Dipper flushed, shamefully pleased by the attention. "Nah, I'm fine." He quipped, leaning back against his chair. "And, yeah, it would be nice to talk to both of them. What day is it again?"

"Monday."

"Woah," Dipper mumbled. "I've been out of it for two days."

"Well, more like a day and a half. All of yesterday you were pretty messed up, but you seem to be getting better. Wouldn't count on that lasting too long, though. You're probably gonna fade in and out for the next few days, yanno. 'M sure it's not gonna be as bad as yesterday and the night before, though."

The boy looked over to his uncle as the man began to crack two eggs into a pan, a small frown on his face. "But I feel fine right now," he argued lightly.

"Trust me, kiddo, I've had a concussion before. You think you're fine and twenty minutes later you're wandering the streets wondering where the hell you are," he said. Then, belatedly, "Pardon my french."

Dipper hiked one dark brow into the air, then let a Cheshire grin split across his face. "Hey, at least if I forget I'll have you to keep me off the streets and make sure I know where the hell I am." The boy joked, laughing a bit as he said it.

Stanley was turned to the stove, but Dipper saw his shoulders rise and fall with silent laughter. "Heh. Don't let Ford hear ya talkin' like that," he said, chuckling. Ford had always been less inclined to use profanity, and he was vehemently against children using it.

The room fell silent for a moment, with Dipper staring absently at the wall while Stanley cooked breakfast. After another few minutes, Stanley had successfully made two plates of eggs, one cup of coffee, and one of water. He set the water down in front of Dipper, as well as a plate of eggs, a fork, and a roll of paper towels. Then, he took the seat opposite of him and dug in, eating his own eggs with vigor.

The past two days had been more stressful than he could have ever imagined, and he was so caught up in worrying about his niblings that he'd forgotten about himself entirely, barely having eaten at all since Dipper got the concussion. Not only was he worried sick about Dipper and his injury, but he was also considerably worried for Mabel. Even though he knew she was in the very capable hands of his twin brother, he couldn't help but feel worried about being separated from her for so long; not to mention while she was away in a very foreign place where any number of bad things could happen to her. A sweet, innocent, trusting little girl like her would get eaten alive in a second in the city without Ford's company, and he couldn't help but to think that she would be better off staying here, even if it was selfish of him. He didn't want her to get hurt, but neither did Ford, which was why Stanley had tried to stay enthusiastic for her sake. After all, Mabel had been so excited when she'd learned that Ford wanted to study Mermando, and even more so when Ford had suggested that they take a trip to do it. He couldn't possibly say no to her sweet little face, especially when she gave him the puppy dog eyes and stuck her bottom lip out pleadingly.

But, of course, there was another factor that had allowed Stan to agree to the trip; Dipper, and the promise of quality time with him.

Ford had wanted to bond more with Mabel, seeing as they hadn't spent nearly as much time together as he and Dipper had, and the same was true for Stanley and Dipper. Although both men loved their niblings equally, they found that there was one they seemed to relate more to. Stanley related more to Mabel's wacky sense of humor, wild enthusiasm, and slightly careless behavior, whereas Stanford related to Dipper's need for adventure, fondness for the more intellectual side of life, and curiosity about the mysteries of the world.

Since Ford had become a part of their lives, Stanley felt like he was growing increasingly distant from his great-nephew. While Mabel was always adamant about her need for fun family activities, and though her wishes were catered to by taking weekly outings, it always seemed like Dipper and Stanford retreated into each other. They talked about things much beyond anyone else's comprehension, shared inside jokes, and made references that the other two couldn't understand. It was slightly off-putting, but Stanley knew that Ford felt the same way when it came to Mabel.

So, he'd agreed to the vacation and, luckily, Dipper hadn't wanted to come, so there was no need to talk him out of it. As soon as they had told him, he'd grinned widely and started teasing his twin about making out with her 'fish boyfriend.' When asked how he felt about the whole thing by Ford (because Stanley knew that the boy wasn't as keen to open up to him as he was to his brother), Dipper had said he thought it would be good for Mabel to spend some time with him, and had confided in Ford that he hoped he and Stanley would be able to bond as well. When this had been relayed to Stanley the next day, the man immediately began to brainstorm things that would be fun for both of them and allow them to bond.

The boy sustaining a concussion a few hours into the week wasn't exactly what the old man had in mind, but he would make the best of it. Not only for his sake, but for his great-nephew's; after all, he didn't want the kid to remember this week as being horrible. Somehow, he was going to turn this into an opportunity. Stanley was a master conman, after all; he knew how to take something undesirable and turn it into something so valuable would people practically throw money at you for it. Surely it couldn't be too hard to the same thing with his nephew!

At least, he hoped so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter! I hope you enjoyed! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Mabel sighed happily as she eased herself into the clear blue waters of Cabo San Lucas, smiling to herself. It was extremely quiet, the only noise being the sound of leaves colliding with the wind and the calming sounds of the ocean as it was pulled toward the tide and then pushed back. Grunkle Ford was still sleeping, and she knew he wouldn't take kindly to find her out and about in the water when he woke, so she had resolved herself to lay down on the soft sand and bathe her legs in the beautiful, comforting water until he woke.

The sun shone down on her, bathing her in a gentle warmth. Although her phone sat beside her, she didn't bother to pick it up and check the time; there was no need to, after all. Since Mermando had guided them to the small, secluded island not too far from the bustling resorts of Cabo San Lucas, time had seemed endless. There was no outside distractions, no schedule they had to follow. They had a week on an isolated beach, a week of no worries, no stress.

That is, aside from Dipper. Mabel's mind wandered to her twin constantly, but she was learning to put him out of her mind. After all, she couldn't go and see him now, and both of her great-uncles had encouraged her to stop worrying and enjoy her vacation after she'd tried to contact her twin for the sixth time in under an hour. She had five days left in Cabo, and she was determined to make the most of them.

She was with Grunkle Ford and Mermando on a beautiful beach where she didn't have to wear anything but her swimsuit for a week straight, where she slept in a cozy tent beside her uncle, where she could spend the whole day with Mermando and Grunkle Ford, talking, laughing, making memories (which she captured on camera for her scrapbook, of course). She allowed herself to let go of everything going on back in Gravity Falls, at least for the time being, and enjoy the present.

Then, her phone rang.

She groaned, turning on her side and dropping her palm atop of the device. Once it was in her hand, she brought it to her face. Her eyes widened and she was quick to answer, bring the phone to her ear with unbridled delight.

"DIPPER!" She shouted, ecstatic.

" _Hey, Mabel."_ Her brother greeted on the other end. She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Hey, you! How're you feeling?" She asked hurriedly.

" _I'm fine. I just hit my head a little._ " He joked.

"Ha-ha." She said in a deadpan tone. "Grunkle Ford told me you were out in the woods really late, during a thunderstorm! What were you thinking?!"

" _I was just thinking about something I read in one of the journals, and I wanted to see for myself! It said that the best results were late at night, so I went late at night!_ " Dipper exclaimed defensively, trying to justify his insensible actions with little success.

"Why did you go out even though it was storming? You could've gotten seriously hurt! Well, even more seriously than you did! What if Grunkle Stan hadn't been there?!"

" _I didn't know trees were gonna start falling all over the place!_ " Dipper huffed. " _Listen, I get it, and I'm sorry. It was stupid, I know. I just wasn't thinking about what could happen to me, I was thinking about what I could find._ "

Mabel sighed. "I know how you get." She acquiesced, only to raise her voice again. "But if you ever do something like that again I'll start setting traps in your room so you can't sneak out at night!"

Dipper laughed on the other end, and the girl found herself laughing along. For a moment, the tranquility of the beach was filled with Mabel's high-pitched, happy laughter.

Then, another voice broke into the moment, calling her name. Mabel looked over, happy to find that Grunkle Ford was just now rising from bed and pushing his way out of their tent in a pair of swim trunks and a loose-fitting tank top. She beamed, revealing her straight teeth, and waved him over to where she was. She was still laying down, but she had propped her head up by her elbow, which was now buried in the sand.

"It's Dipper on the phone!" She called.

Stanford's mouth made an 'o' shape and he rushed forward, skidding to a stop beside his great-niece and kicking sand into her. He slid down to lay beside her and she passed the phone off to him.

" _Hello?_ " Dipper said on the other end, confused. " _Mabel?_ "

"It's Grunkle Ford," the man said, clasping both hands over the phone pressed to his ear as if it would help him to hear better instead of simply turning the volume up.

Mabel laughed a little at his actions. Despite her great-uncle being a genius, he was as clueless as a newborn when it came to modern technology. She and Dipper were sure it was because of the touch screen, while Stanley had joked; "Heh, a nerd like him probably didn't get calls anyway, I doubt he ever knew how to work a phone when he was on Earth!" At this, Ford had began to sputter indignantly and, after hearing the uproarious laughter from his brother, had promptly put his brother in a headlock, leading to a playful wrestling match in the kitchen while the kids cheered their uncles on.

"Can you remember me?" Stanford asked slowly into the device, looking slightly worried.

" _Yeah, I remember. I'm fine. Grunkle Stan says I won't be for long, though, so I figured I'd call before I had some kind of memory loss or something._ " Dipper laughed on the other end.

Ford didn't. His grey brows were pulled downward, his eyes filled with sadness and guilt. "Dipper..." He mumbled in a low tone. "If you're coherent, then you should know that Stanley and I don't condone that kind of behavior. I... I know my actions don't necessarily reflect that. I'm sorry. I need to be better example for you."

" _What? C'mon, Ford, you're fine! It wasn't your fault._ " Dipper protested.

"Oh? And who else in our household would leave in the middle of the night to examine anomalies? Whose journal did you have in your hands?" Ford argued. "Listen to me. I never want you to put yourself in any danger for any reason, alright? I'm an old man, I've earned the right to do reckless stuff while I'm still alive. You're much too young to be endangering yourself like this, though."

On the other end, Dipper sighed heavily. " _Grunkle Ford, it wasn't your fault. I would've gone even if you told me not to. But... I'm not going to do something like that again. I'm sorry I made everyone worry._ "

"It's alright. We worry regardless, just a little bit more when bad things happen." Ford said, allowing a little chuckle to escape his mouth.

" _Yeah, but I feel bad. I mean, Grunkle Stan had to come after me..._ " The boy was mumbling now, and Ford instantly realized that Dipped was worried that Stanley might overhear him.

"Stanley is happy to do whatever he can to keep you safe, Dipper. He loves you." Ford insisted.

" _Yeah. I know, I just... Well, I feel like I was being a burden or something._ " The boy's was quieter now, evidence of the awkwardness he still felt when he shared his feelings.

"You're never a burden, Dipper." Ford insisted, matching his soft tone.

" _You don't know that! He wouldn't tell you! I'm not fun like Mabel, I'm just boring_." He said. Then, " _Anway, I should go. I'm tired._ "

"Alright. Say goodbye to your sister. I love you, Dipper. We all love you."

Ford turned back to Mabel and smiled, handing the phone off to her.

"Bye, bro-bro! Get some rest! If you're not better by the time I get back, I'll make you some Mabel juice!"

Ford winced at the prospect of the anyone having to drink his great-niece's signature drink as the young girl set her phone down in the sand. The first time she'd made it for him, he had only been able to down a tiny sip before he felt as if his insides were rearranging themselves. He'd watched in horror and astonishment as the girl threw back two glasses in under a minute, and had decided then and there that Mabel was clearly some kind of alien with extreme strength and endurance. Anyone who could drink the horrible concoction and stand upright was incredible, but someone who could still grin and run around afterward? Well, that was a level of strength previously unknown to Ford.

Mabel set the phone down and scooted closer to her uncle, offering a gentle, cool smile. Unlike her usual ecstatic grin, this one showed more compassion and understanding. It warmed Ford's heart, as most of the kindness his family offered him managed to do. It had been so long since he'd been able to love and be loved so freely, and to be loved so unconditionally, so purely by the three people he loved equally was the best feeling in the world. Out of all the places he'd ever been, his favorite was undoubtedly wherever Stanley and the kids were.

"It wasn't your fault. Dipper does crazy things like that all the time." She reassured, laying her hand over his.

He smiled, turning his hand over and squeezing her smaller one in his. Then, he leaned over and kissed her forehead affectionately, ruffling her hair as he pulled away.

"Thank you, Mabel." He said softly.

They laid down hand-in-hand and watched the sun glimmer against the clear water of the ocean in companionable silence until Mermando returned for another day of visiting.


	5. Chapter 5

"So, doc doesn't want you out on your feet too much, but I don't like the thought of ya being holed up in here all day." Stanley said, interrupting the silence that blanketed over the living room.

It had been an hour or so since they'd eaten breakfast, and Stanley and Dipper were perched on Stanley's comfortable living room chair beside each other, watching a re-run of an old stop-motion film. Dipper was bored, Stanley could tell, and he hated seeing the boy cooped up like this during Summer when he was supposed to be out making memories.

"What do you wanna do?" Dipper asked, raising a brow at the elder. "Are you gonna throw me in the wheelbarrow and wheel me around town?" He joked.

Stanley let out a small chuckle, pretending to rub his stubbly chin thoughtfully. "That's actually not a bad idea, but no. I was, uh... Do you wanna go down to the waterfall? It's, uh... It can be a really good place to go and watch the sunset." He trailed off, looking at his watch. It was barely noon. "We could, uh, give it a little, still... Sun's not gonna set for a while."

"Actually, could we go soon?" Dipper asked hopefully. "I wouldn't mind going down. You could fish a little, too. Y'know. And hang out, or something." He suggested sheepishly. He didn't know if Stanley was looking for a distraction or if he was actually trying to find something to entertain Dipper, but either way, Dipper wanted out of the house.

"If you want, sure. Let's try for fifteen minutes from now. I wanna get some stuff together first. Sound good?"

"Yeah, sure. I should go up to my room and change first anyway." Dipper suggested, slipping off their shared chair.

"Woah, woah, kiddo, hold your horses!" Stanley exclaimed, hurriedly standing up. "There's no way I'm letting you walk up a flight of stairs by yourself."

Dipper flushed embarassedly, about to protest when Stanley wrapped both arms around his waist, carrying him carefully into the hallway and then up the wooden stairs. He stopped at the door, tightening his hold with one arm before he let go of Dipper with the other and opened the door. Once they were inside, Stanley set his great-nephew down on his bed and grinned at the boy's grumpy, embarrassed face.

"Hey, c'mon, it's gotta be kinda fun! Next time I'll hold you up and you can pretend you're an airplane," he suggested teasingly.

Dipper rolled his eyes and stubbornly stifled a smile, but Stanley saw through his embarrassed act and laughed. Dipper let a small laugh pass his own lips, but after a moment a more serious feeling had dropped onto them and Stanley stared at the boy, well aware that something was off.

"I'll check on you in ten minutes. Don't even think of going down those stairs without me, ya hear?" The older man cautioned, love and worry prominent in his worn eyes.

Dipper picked at the corner of his blanket and nodded. "I won't, I won't."

"Alright. Get yerself some new clothes, and don't rush, alright? If anything else happens to ya this summer, you'll be buryin' me."

With that, Stanley left the room. He paused in the doorway, watching as Dipper stood up and moved to his dresser, before he continued down the stairs.

Once he was down in his own room Stanley followed Dipper's example and changed his clothes, dressing himself in a pair of comfortable sandals, a simple t-shirt, and cargo shorts. Once that was over, he hunted around his room for a bag, eventually locating a large tote bag he must have found somewhere.

Although a normal day by the lake and the waterfall was a relatively simple trip, there was a lot Stanley had to account for. Dipper was injured, and he wanted to make sure the kid was completely comfortable the whole time. He wandered around the house, picking up items that he deemed necessary for the trip as he walked.

What if he got cold? Two thick sweaters and two blankets were added, later joined by two pillows. A towel was tucked safely at the bottom of the tote as well, just in case. What if the sun was too bright? A hat to shield Dipper's eyes, and a pair of sunglasses just to be extra careful. What if he got sunburnt? Eaten alive by mosquitoes? What if he had another headache? Sunscreen, bug spray, aspirin, too many bottles of water to count, a complete first-aid kit, as many snack foods as he could fit, an extra pair of shoes, as well as an extra set of clothes, were all added to the rapidly-filling tote. What if he was just bored? Dipper's sketchbook sat unopened on the table, and although Stanley was forbidden from viewing it's contents, he carefully packed it into the bag, along with a few pencils. His final addition was two novels, both of which he knew his great-nephew had already read, but that Stanley hoped he would appreciate nonetheless, and a deck of cards.

Carrying the tote bag with him, Stanley went outside to check and make sure he had two fishing poles and his tackle box in the car. Although he didn't really want to fish, he decided that it would be best to bring the items, just in case Dipper ended up wanting to. Hell, it couldn't turn into a good bonding moment, and he wouldn't pass any of those up. He packed the bag into the trunk and turned on his heel, heading upstairs to Dipper's room. He entered without a knock and peered around for a moment before his eyes settled on his great-nephew.

The boy was sitting on the floor, a backpack next to him and his cellphone in his hand. Much to Stanley's concern, his pale hands seemed to be shaking, his brows were pulled down, and his eyes were wet. Thinking that the boy might be in some kind of pain, Stanley took a few cautious steps forward.

"Hey, kiddo, what's wrong?" He asked worriedly, his voice quiet and careful.

Dipper looked up, surprised, and shook his head. "People sent me a lot of get well texts... Has anyone came around to the Shack?"

Stanley blinked, surprised. Although Dipper had made a lot of connections in Gravity Falls, he'd completely forgotten about the possibility that some people would probably want to see Dipper and wish him well. His mind had been so consumed with Dipper for the past few days that he'd barely had any thoughts left to spare for Mabel or Ford, let alone any of the various townsfolk that had taken up with his niblings.

"Oh, uh... I haven't actually been in the Shack since you got hit, but I bet they have. I told Wendy 'n Soos to only get me if it was serious, so... They probably thought yer friends couldn't come back, I... Tell ya what, why don'tcha send everyone ya want a message and tell 'em to come down to the waterfall. I'll bring my poles and let you catch up with 'em. We'll bring plenty of pop. Sound good?" The man offered, feeling his heart sink knowing that this wouldn't be a bonding experience for him and his nibling, but he was sure it would make a great memory for Dipper, and the thought lifted his spirits.

Dipper's eyes lit up, a bright smile on his face. "Really?" He asked, already beginning to type something on his phone. Then, he paused. "Maybe another time," he said after a moment, dropping his cellphone into his backpack.

Stanley frowned, wondering why he'd changed his mind, but said nothing as Dipper stood up. Instead, he head an arm out for his nephew to grab onto if he needed and stayed on his heels, just in case. They walked to the door before Stanley cleared his throat loudly and placed a palm flat on the door, holding it closed so that his nephew couldn't get out and attempt the stairs.

"Nu-uh. I know it's awkward, but I told ya, no stairs. C'mere, hand me that." The old man commanded gently, holding his hand out for the backpack. Dipper sheepishly passed it over and then raised his arms, allowing the elder to pick him up and cart him down the stairs.

"Promise you won't do that while we're out?" Dipper asked, pink in the cheeks. He swung his feet idly, pretending not to like the feeling of being completely weightless.

"No promises, kid. I'm not lettin' anything happen to ya. It wouldn't be fun if you got another concussion and had to stay in bed even longer, huh?"

The boy sighed and nodded as he was handed his backpack, allowing his great-uncle to win the small battle. After all, it flattered Dipper that the old man wanted him to stay safe, and it felt nice to be fussed over by him. If it weren't for the fact that he was restricted from doing basically anything by himself, Dipper would consider sustaining another concussion just to have Stanley treat him so well a little longer.

Not to say that Stanley ever treated Dipper badly, no; it was just that he was a little more prone to tough love methods, and had a hard time sharing his feelings. He was sentimental, Dipper knew, but he didn't show it very often. Not to mention the fact that his great-uncle clearly loved Mabel a little more. It was harder for him to show affection toward Dipper to begin with because of his natural preference for Mabel. This, the boy had all worked out long ago, and had grown to accept. Dipper loved his twin more than he loved himself, and it didn't bother him in the slightest that others had the same thought process as him; it merely taught him to appreciate the moments where he was shown excessive amounts of love and care by the people around him.

Stanley carried Dipper all the way to the car, setting the boy down carefully in the backseat. He set his backpack gently down beside him, waiting to make sure his great-nephew was properly buckled in before he got into the driver's seat and began the journey to the falls.

The drive was silent, but not awkward. They drove along the outskirts of town, Stanley taking the long way around despite the waste of gas. He knew how Dipper liked it when they took long drives, and smiled fondly when he glanced into the rear-view mirror and saw Dipper staring out the window, a small smile on his face. Whenever he made his family happy, whatever he'd had to do to was worth it, and a few extra bucks spent on gas was definitely worth the smile on Dipper's face. Stanley just hoped he could keep it there for the rest of the day.

He knew Dipper didn't relate to him much, and he knew the kid preferred Ford by far, and it was true that they rarely spent any time together without at least one of their twins present, but... Stanley was trying his best to remain confident in his ability to, at the very least, keep someone entertained. It was his strong suit as a con artist, and he'd gotten even better at it during his time managing the Mystery Shack. He'd fooled more suckers than he could count into being amazed by something completely idiotic. If he could make someone pay twenty bucks to see a taxidermy squirrel body glued to an old fish head, surely he could keep the great-nephew he loved dearly entertained for a day.

"Alright, kiddo! We're here!" Stan grinned, pulling his car into a secluded spot towards the edge of the lake, as close to the falls as he could get them.

The actual waterfall was still quite a ways off, but there was too many rocky ledges to scale if they wanted to be directly next to the falls, and while Stanley might have tried such a thing when he was younger and when he didn't have a kid with a concussion in tow, there was no way he was trying it now.

"Wow, we're pretty far from everyone," Dipper commented idly as he stepped out of the car.

Stan looked around, as if noticing this for the first time, and suddenly became worried about his choice of location. "Yeah, uh, we can move closer to 'em if ya wanted to."

"Nah, this is cool," Dipper said easily, standing beside his uncle.

The older man looked down, smiling fondly at the kid before moving to the trunk. He retrieved the large bag, shouldering it and beginning to walk toward the lake with his great-nephew in front of him. Once they were about a foot from the water, Dipper stopped, setting his backpack down on the sand.

"Perfect spot, kid." Stan complimented softly, pulling one of the large blankets he'd packed earlier out of the bag. With a grin, he laid it out on the sand, tossing two pillows and the other blanket down on top of it.

Dipper beamed up at him as he took a seat, flopping down in a way that made Stanley wince.

"Be careful, alright?" The man cautioned as he eased himself to sit down beside his nibling. "And you tell me if you have any problems or anythin' or if you wanna go home. I won't be mad. I have a bunch of stuff in here, too, so if you want anything, tell me."

"Thanks, Grunkle Stan." The boy said in response, smiling. Then, he looked out to the water.

It was still early on in the day, and the sun hung high in the sky, shining brilliantly upon the lake. It reflected beautifully, creating a perfect trail of sunlight up to the falls. Dipper sighed, turning toward his backpack. He began to rummage around, furrowing his brows after a moment.

"Aww, man!'

Stanley looked over, having been distracted by the sight of a canoe tipping over across the lake. He frowned, leaning toward the kid. "What's wrong?" He asked, worried.

Dipper sighed and shook his head, dismissing the man's worry. "I just forgot my sketchbook, no big deal."

At this, the elder lit up. "Wait, I have it!" He exclaimed, hurriedly twisting to reach the bag. He dug around for a moment, producing the book and a pencil. "Don't worry, I didn't look in it or anything, I just saw it sittin' in the kitchen and I figured you might want it, since you always have it." He said by way of explanation as he passed the items on to his nephew.

The boy accepted them, a warm feeling blooming in his chest at the man's words. He hadn't realized his grunkle paid enough attention to realize that he had a sketchbook, let alone that he knew Dipper brought it everywhere even when he rarely actually brought it out to draw something or that he didn't like people looking in it. He didn't want to discredit his great-uncle, but he was well aware that he didn't pay attention very well when the subject was something he deemed unimportant. While Dipper didn't think he himself was unimportant to Stanley, he also didn't think that any of his interests or habits were of any importance to the man. After all, most of the things Dipper liked were nerdy and boring to Stanley anyway.

"Wow, thanks," Dipper said, truly grateful as he looked up to Stan.

The elder smiled softly back, ruffling Dipper's hair affectionately. "No problem, kid. Listen, I'll leave ya to it. I'm gonna go dip my feet in for a while and leave ya alone. I know you don't like a lot of distractions when you're doing whatever it is you do in there. Just holler or come get me if you need anything, okay?"

The boy nodded, feeling slightly bereft about the fact that Stanley was leaving him, but once again extremely flattering knowing that the man paid enough attention to him to know that he liked to draw in silence and with no one around. It was shocking to see how much the man really knew about him, and it was making Dipper rethink a lot of assumptions he had about his uncle.

Stanley reached into the tote and plucked out a bottle of water and a bag of chips before walking to the water's edge, settling himself down on the sand with part of his legs rested in the water and the rest of his body on land. He had his back to Dipper, staring idly out onto the lake. As his great-nephew watched him, he was struck by the incredible serenity of the scene.

Dipper flipped to an empty page in his sketchbook and began to draw.

 

 

He woke to the feeling of the Earth underneath him being moved. Blinking slowly, Dipper raised his head and looked around, shocked to find that he actually was moving. Something was pulling the blanket, him in tow, away from his previous spot. With a cry of surprise, the boy scrambled to sit up, only to have the movement suddenly stop.

"Woah, sorry, didn't mean to wake you." A familiar voice said.

Dipper turned his head, sighing in relief when he noted the corners of the blanket his great-uncle was holding in his hand. "No, that's okay. What were you doing?" He asked, looking around. After a moment, his eyes caught on the lake and widened, surprised. The sun was considerably lower than before, the sky having turned a shade of orange. "Woah. What time is it?"

"A little bit past five." Stanley shrugged. "I was movin' ya out of the sun. It was shinin' straight onto ya, and I don't want ya to get sunburnt or anything."

"Geez, why did I sleep so long?" Dipper asked, though he wasn't truly looking for an answer. "I wasn't really that tired."

His uncle set the blanket down and reached into the bag, passing the boy a bottle of water as he sat down beside him. "Well, you've got a concussion. You need some time to really recover. Sleeping's good. I bet ya wore your mind out with that book, since you always seem so focused when you've got it."

Dipper looked down, noting the closed sketchbook half-tucked under the pillow he'd been using. "Grunkle Stan?"

"Yeah?" The man looked over, raising a thick, grey brow.

Dipper averted his gaze and rubbed the base of his neck awkwardly. "I, um... I didn't know you noticed that I had it with me all the time."

Stanley blinked, realizing they were talking about the sketchbook. "Well, you always keep it in your backpack, don'tcha? Whenever I see you bring it out, that's usually my cue to grab Mabel and give you some privacy for a an hour or two." He replied idly, a bit confused by his nephew's choice of topic.

"Does it bore you?"

The old man looked over, incredulous. "What?" He asked, surprised.

"Do you and Mabel give me privacy when I take it out because it bores you? I know it's not fun to watch someone sit there in silence for a few hours, but... Do you think it's stupid?" Dipper asked, slowly raising his eyes enough to just barely catch a glimpse of his great-uncle's features. The man looked incredibly surprised, staring at him as if he were insane to even ask such a question.

"Stupid? No, 'course not! I just know it's not somethin' you want anyone else to see, and I figure having your sister around can be really distracting. She's all over that thing whenever you take it out." Stanley chuckled fondly. "She loves ya, but I know she can be a little overbearing sometimes, so I figured I'd help you out a little and keep her out of your hair. Hell, I think everyone that's ever seen it wants to know what's in it. Besides Ford, I mean."

"Ford?" Dipper asked, blinking. "Has he looked in it?"

Stanley frowned, confused. "Well... No, not that I know of. I just figured you woulda showed him. Don't you write, like, science-y things in it or somethin'?"

The boy paused, looking down at the worn, leatherbound book in his hand. He'd bought it with his first week's allowance from Stan at the very beginning of the year, and hadn't been without it since. Even so, he'd never let anyone see what was inside, as he was always rather embarrassed.

"No, Ford's the last person I'd ever show it to." Dipper said, laughing humorlessly.

Stanley frowned, scooting a little closer. "You okay? Somethin' happen between you two?" He questioned, concern swimming in his dark eyes.

"No, no! I just... Um..." Dipper looked away again, embarrassed. "He's a really good artist, and..."

The elder blinked, eyes flitting to the book now clasped in his nephew's small hands, and found himself extremely surprised. Hell, he'd known that it was a sketchbook, but he hadn't expected Dipper to use it for it's intended purpose! He'd never pegged the kid for an artist, but the idea of there being pages and pages of Dipper's sketches only made him itch to see what was inside even more. Random equations and the other nerdy stuff Stanley had assumed was written in there was hard to understand, but art? Art was up for interpretation. Anyone could understand it, even him!

"Hey, kiddo, don't worry about that! Listen, my brother can be really snooty sometimes, I know. But he'd never mock ya or even think anything rude about you in his head, alright? Just 'cause he's naturally gifted at everything he does doesn't mean everyone else has to be. Comparing yourself to Ford can be hard, but guess what? He made plenty of mistakes, too. No one's perfect. Don't be afraid to show him whatcha got. He'd probably be excited and want to help you learn faster."

Dipper blushed, flattered by his uncle's words and also incredibly embarrassed. Emotional talks with Stan were few and far between, and although he was happy it was happening right now, he was unsure of what to say. He appreciated his great-uncle's comforting words more than he could convey with his own. Hopefully his next few would help Stanley understand exactly how grateful he was to hear the man's gentle praise.

"...Do you wanna see?" He asked sheepishly, lifting his hand off the cover.

Stan blinked, shocked. "You wanna show me?" He asked tentatively.

"Yeah," Dipper mumbled, opening the book.

Immediately, Stan's breath hitched in his throat. The first page was a drawing of Mabel, more of a sketch than anything, but Stanley recognized the scene immediately. After all, the image of her crying face from that day was burned into his mind forever, and he had vowed after that to never let something tear his family apart the way the events of that day had again. It was a drawing of his great-niece floating a few feet above the ground, long hair standing straight up, clinging to the shut-down switch for the portal. A few tears had been drawn floating above her, and a very basic outline of the portal behind her.

Stanley's throat was dry, staring at the image. Despite the pain it brought up, he had to admire the quality of the sketch. Although it was a little rough around the edges, it still showed a lot of talent. Dipper had captured his sister perfectly, with more artistic skill Ford had showed at his age. It was startling how good the kid was for being just under fourteen, and Stanley found pride welling up in him.

"Wow," the man finally managed, finding his voice.

Dipper looked down at the drawing for a moment. "I dream about that a lot," he admitted softly.

"Me too," Stan replied softly, patting the boy on the back.

Dipper flipped the page, revealing a much happier image. It was Mabel again, but in this drawing the viewer was looking at her from above, observing her laying in a huge field of beautiful flowers, her hands spread and her hair splayed wildly upon the ground. She appeared to be laughing, and it made a smile creep up on Stanley's face. After a moment, he turned his gaze to the other page. Flowers littered it, and Dipper quickly explained that it was a practice page for the drawing beside it.

As Dipper flipped through the pages of his sketchbook, Stanley was struck not only by the boy's talent, but his attention to detail and his apparent sentimentality. He captured so many seemingly random scenes, like Wendy talking on the phone or Soos buying a bag of chips from the vending machine, but as he showed the drawings, he would explain the significance of his picture. They flipped through, Stanley marveling at each picture while Dipper explained.

Then, they reached a picture of him. Stan's eyes widened in surprise, taken aback by his appearance in Dipper's sketchbook. He would've never thought that the kid would draw any inspiration from him, let alone enough to draw a full-body picture with shading and a partially-completed background. The picture showed him in front of the Shack, arms spread-eagle and beaming as he proudly displayed his home to customers. Hair obscured the view at several points, making it seem as if the viewer was looking at Stanley and the shack from behind the tour group.

"Geez. That's amazing." Stanley said, staring intently at the image until Dipper flipped the page.

This time, it was two pictures of Ford. One showed him proudly displaying a jar that held some sort of oddly misshapen fish with huge teeth. In the other one, he was bent over a desk, a hand buried in his hair and a tear rolling down his cheek.

Stanley frowned, troubled by the image. "When was this?" He asked, his voice coming out in a whisper.

Dipper looked over to him and grimaced. "He was telling me about you guys," he answered, matching his uncle's volume. "Y'know, your past and stuff. I think... I think he was talking about how he burned you here."

Stan winced at the memory, suddenly feeling an itch at his shoulderblade. "You talk about that with him?"

Dipper shrugged. "We talk about whatever's bothering us. He, um... This was after you had a memory lapse and wanted him to explain how you got your 'tattoo.'"

Stanley nodded, guilt washing over him at the words. "Oh," he said softly.

Dipper leaned closer, resting himself against his uncle for comfort. Stanley looked down, surprised, and slowly wrapped an arm around the boy, holding him close. Dipper flipped the page, displaying an image of Wendy and the girl who was always texting—Stanley didn't remember her name—laughing and talking. On the next, there was a picture of the Shack. There were no people at all in the picture, just a very detailed, accurate picture of their home. Stan smiled at the image and let Dipper flip the page.

He froze. Dipper hurriedly flipped the page, only to have Stanley flip it back, staring intently at the image displayed.

"Is... Is that you?" The man gulped, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah," Dipper mumbled, shame growing hot within him as he stared at the image.

"When was this?" Stanley stared into the tired, teary eyes of the self-portrait his nephew had drawn.

Dipper shrugged absently. "I had a nightmare. I-It was a while ago, though. It was just... Just a bad dream." The boy said, sounding more like he was reassuring himself than his uncle.

"Hm," the old man continued to eye the drawing, taking in the kid's sketchy, disheveled, terrified-looking self. He hadn't seen Dipper cry on many occasions, but even when he had, it wasn't like this. This looked like he'd sobbed until he was too tired to cry anymore. "Did you draw this right after you woke up?"

Dipper nodded. "Yeah. On some of the other ones, I took pictures, but I was... I dunno. It was early in the morning and I was on an inspiration kick I guess, so... I don't know. I wouldn't usually draw something like that. It's the only self-portrait I have."

"Well... It's good." Stanley replied very softly. "But next time you have a nightmare, come to me or Ford instead of standin' in front of a mirror. Kills me to see you lookin' like that."

The boy didn't respond, turning a few pages. Stanley felt bereft, until Dipper stopped on a certain page, smiling. "This is my most recent drawing." He mumbled, embarrassed.

Stan blinked, looking down at the image with a mixture of pride and awe. Somehow, Dipper had been inspired to draw him once again. This time, it was the scene from only an hour two prior; Stanley was sitting at the water's edge, looking upon the falls with his back to the viewer. It was beautiful. Out of all the pages in the sketchbook, this was the most detailed one yet.

Looking at the drawing, Stanley realized with shock that he had a prodigy on his hands. Dipper was an artistic genius. Sure, it wasn't some photorealistic drawing or anything like that, but he was thirteen! After all, Ford is an amazing artist, and he hadn't shown half this much promise at Dipper's age. It was obvious from the start that the kid took after Ford in his love for adventure, science, and the paranormal, but it was clear now that Dipper was also a gifted artist.

"Now I have two artists, eh?" He asked after a moment.

Dipper looked up, flushing. "Grunkle Stan?" He asked.

"Yep?" The man in question looked down, smiling warmly at his great-nephew.

"I... Think I want to double major in college. Art and a science major of some sort. Do you think I could make it?" The boy asked shyly, hope heavy in his tone.

Stanley looked down at him like he was insane. "Are you kidding me?"

Dipper's face fell immediately, brown eyes flitting to the ground. So Stan didn't believe in him... He'd thought, after what was happening between them, that Stanley really did care more than he appeared to. Apparently he, just like everyone else, didn't believe in him as much as he wanted them to.

"Of course you can!" His great-uncle continued, shocking Dipper. "If anyone could double, triple, Hell, quadruple major, it'd be you and your sister. Listen, kiddo, I think you and Mabel are bound to make it at anything you do. Even when it's hard, you push through, and half the time ya make it look easy. There isn't any doubts in my mind that people'd be throwin' money at you for any career you decided to do. You could end up bein' a janitor, and people'd have to make appointments just to have ya clean their sh—uh, stuff!" Stanley said, squeezing him tightly once again. Then, realizing how sappy he'd just been, he hastily added: "But don't let any of that go to your head."

The boy laughed, turning on his side to wrap his arms around the man. "Thanks, Grunkle Stan," he said, his voice muffled in the man's chest.

The old man laughed, patting his back once or twice. "Hey, no need to thank me, kid. Just tellin' ya what anyone would've said."

"Sure," Dipper replied, laughing as he pulled away. Then, he glanced down at his phone, surprised at the time. "Woah. It's six now." He mused.

Stanley looked around, smiling. The lake was virtually empty now, and the sight was beautiful, but he was growing hungry. He'd had a few snacks, but he wanted something hot.

"Hey, whaddya say we head over to Greasy's and get somethin' to eat?" The man suggested, smiling warmly.

Dipper returned his smile. "Yeah, sure!" He affirmed, his own stomach beginning to growl at the thought of food. He'd remained hydrated, but when he was last awake, he had refused food, too lost in his drawing to be distracted by eating. Now that he was thinking about food again, he found himself growing extremely hungry.

The two packed up their miniature campsite fast, simply shoving everything hastily into their respective bags. Dipper tucked his phone into his pocket and threw the rest of his belongings into the trunk, his great-uncle following his lead and doing the same. Once again, Stanley made sure he was properly buckled before he took off.

The trip to Greasy's diner was short, and the pair made it there easily. They didn't say much on the trip, as they were both more focused on getting something to eat than anything else. When they arrived at the diner, they were quick to slide into a booth and order their food, as well as have a quick conversation with Lazy Susan. Much to Dipper's embarrassment, she revealed that word of his injury had spread around town and people had been worried about him before walking off to put their orders in with the cook.

Dipper sighed as she walked away, feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on. Thinking nothing of it, he decided that it wasn't worth telling Stan about. He knew headaches were a symptom of a concussion, so it didn't seem like something that was worth worrying his uncle over. There were more important things to think about, like the burgers, fries, and chocolate milkshakes that would soon be arriving at their table.

"Man, the whole town already knows, huh? I wonder if Soos and Wendy ran around postin' flyers about it." Stanley said, chuckling.

Dipper laughed weakly in return, finding that the sound of his uncle's gruff voice was only adding to the pounding in his head. Even still, he didn't want to be rude, and so he laughed at the comment.

"Wendy probably told Tambry, and Tambry probably forwarded it to everyone in a thirty-mile radius." Dipper added, laughing a bit himself.

"Heh. Can't imagine what Soos did, though. Wendy told me called her after Ford came back and talked to her for nine hours straight about it." Stan chuckled.

Dipper grinned. "She told me, too. Said she was worried her ear was gonna fall off after how long he talked to her. Makes sense, though, with how much he writes. You should see his fanfiction account." The boy laughed.

Stanley quirked a thick eyebrow in the air. "I'm not even going to ask what a fanfiction account is."

Dipper laughed, ignoring the odd black spot that appeared in his vision for a moment. "Yeah, you don't wanna know."

Stanley laughed and mumbled something, making Dipper jerk his head up to look up at him. The sudden movement turned the world on it's axis and he blinked rapidly before he regained focus, noting with panic that there was some kind of loud, ringing alarm going off. He looked over, waiting for his great-uncle to jump up and flee, but instead found that the man was looking at him expectantly.

"Wh-What did you say?" Dipper asked, blinking rapidly.

The whole room was shifting back and forth, the booth dipping down and then rising at random. Why was no one saying anything about this? Was this a prank? Why wouldn't the alarm stop? Dipper looked around rapidly, each movement making the room spin.

"Here you go, boys," Lazy Susan said as she appeared with two chocolate milkshakes, setting them down on the end of the table.

Dipper gazed at the shakes, realizing that a cold drink would probably calm him down. He reached out for it, his hand closing around thin air. He frowned, realizing that somehow the shake had gotten further away. The boy scooted closer, reaching for it again. His fingers hit it, but they didn't close around it; instead, they knocked the glass over, sending it's contents spilling onto the table, over the edge, and then onto the floor, it's container right behind it. Dipper blinked rapidly, his brain failing to understand where his shake had gone.

He heard Stanley say something, but it became warbled and distorted halfway through and Dipper squeezed his eyes shut, willing his mind to cooperate. Instead, the ringing grew so loud he threw his hands over his ears and tried desperately to calm down. Every breath he took was shaky, short, until he was gasping, the pounding in his head unbearable. He opened his eyes to look for his uncle, but there was nothing aside from darkness and the horrible, horrible ringing.

That is, until the sound abruptly stopped, along with everything else. He was unconscious before his body slumped forward and his head smacked into the table.


	6. Chapter 6

The first sense to return was his hearing. The voice of Grunkle Stan came first, saying something that he didn't catch, but he didn't have to hear what was said to identify the voice's owner. It was the gruff, comforting voice he heard so often and loved so dearly. Then, a woman's voice made an appearance. Dipper identified Lazy Susan speaking, but he could only catch bits and pieces of what was being said.

"Is... Is he...?"

Dipper realized he was still in the booth, or, at the very least, a booth in the diner. He was laying down flat on his back, and there must have been someone else leaning across the table because there was a hand to his forehead and another one laid across his chest.

"No... Just..."

His mouth tasted bitter, and a metallic scent had taken over his nose. Distantly, he realized that someone was bleeding, and that it was probably him. His top lip hurt, and he realized that he must have bit it so hard he bled when he was trying to block everything out.

"...call... doc...?"

"Yeah. Hey, Dipper, can you hear me?"

The boy shifted, realizing that this was the first sentence he'd heard to completion. He groaned in response, straining to open his eyes. He squinted, confused as he noticed that he couldn't see Stan. He turned his head slightly to the side, affirming his earlier assumption; his great-uncle was laying on his stomach atop the table, staring down at him.

"Hey, kiddo. How're you feeling?" The man questioned, putting on a warm smile for the boy. This didn't distract Dipper from the fact that his eyes were red-rimmed and full of panic, a stray tear lingering on his cheek and his brows furrowed with worry.

"...Okay. Why am I laying on a table?" Dipper questioned hoarsely.

Stan chuckled in response, his expression becoming a little less tense. "'Cause I didn't wanna move ya much, and you were falling toward that side so I just leaned over and laid ya down. You made yourself bleed, yanno."

"...I feel it. I didn't mean to bite it that hard." Dipper said, grimacing as he brought a pale hand to his lip and felt the damage. It stung when he touched it, and he quickly retracted his hand.

"Yeah. Well, don't worry, doc's on her way and she'll get ya all patched up and then we'll head home and get some rest. How's that sound?"

Dipper smiled softly. "Yeah, I could use some sleep... How long was I out, though?"

"Eh, forty-five seconds or so. But I was already across the table before that, 'cause you looked like you were in a lot of pain." Stanley's expression darkened considerably, worry once again taking over his features. "It wasn't... It didn't hurt too bad, did it?"

The younger averted his eyes, not wanting to lie to his great-uncle but also not wanting to cause him any more grief. The worried, heartbroken expression on his face was like a knife through Dipper's heart, and he felt immensely guilty for worrying him so.

"Well... It hurt a lot..." He finally admitted. "But it wasn't your fault! It wasn't the noise or anything! It was on the list of side effects, right? Headaches?"

"Kid, this wasn't any sorta headache. You passed out."

"Yeah, but only 'cause my head hurt!" Dipper argued. "I think it was just... just an extreme reaction or something."

"Well, we're gonna wait here for the doc to get here and tell me what she thinks. You're smart, kid, but I don't remember you havin' any kinda medical degree." Stanley joked.

Dipper returned the smile and sighed. "I'm sick of having a concussion!" He complained.

"Yeah? Are you sick of wandering around in the woods during thunderstorms, too?" The old man retorted.

"Nah, not yet, I think I still have to try that a few more times before I learn my lesson." Dipper grinned cheekily as he peered up at his uncle, who rolled his eyes.

Their banter continued until the doctor arrived. As usual, she got straight to the point and was quick to check the boy over and decide that any additional injuries he had sustained were not going to have any major effect on his health. After the check-up was over, she sternly warned Dipper that he should tell his uncle if he ever felt the beginnings of something like that again, lest he hurt himself more in the process. Dipper had agreed guiltily and, after a plethora of thank-you's from Stanley to the doctor, she left. Stanley carefully lifted Dipper up, holding him securely in his arms. After that, he turned to Lazy Susan and thanked her immensely. While he had been too terrified to move away from Dipper's side, she had retrieved a wet towel, new bandages, and neosporin to treat the boy's head.

"Sorry for causing a ruckus in your restaurant." Stanley said awkwardly.

Dipper flushed. "Yeah, sorry," he echoed, embarrassed.

"Oh, don't be silly! You boys and the rest of your family bring more business in here than anyone else!" She replied, smiling warmly. Then, she passed Stanley a plastic bag with three takeout boxes and waved them out, watching to make sure they got to the car alright before turning away.

"Grunkle Stan?" Dipper asked once they'd started the journey home.

"Yeah?" The man asked, glancing up at the rearview mirror to check on his great-nephew.

Dipper cleared his throat awkwardly before replying. "I... I had fun today. Well, besides when I passed out. But... I liked going to the falls with you. We should... We should do that again."

Stan let out a soft chuckle. "Heh. You wanna?" He asked. "Betcha your sister would have fun, too. Ford would probably like to watch you draw sometime."

"Yeah," Dipper replied, sounding a bit disappointed.

Stanley frowned and glanced into the rearview mirror again, surprised to find that his great-nephew looked upset. "Somethin' wrong?" He asked worriedly.

"Nah, I just... I was thinking maybe you and I could go again. Just to hang out and stuff." Dipper mumbled and shrugged.

Stanley's brows shot up, surprised by his nephew's suggestion. It wasn't like he thought Dipper hate spending time with him or anything, it was just that, out of the family, he'd always thought he'd be the boy's last choice to spend time with. Dipper loved him, sure, but Stanley knew he wasn't exactly 'relatable' in Dipper's eyes.

"Hey, I won't say no to a little time with my favorite nephew." Stanley said hurriedly, beaming. "We can do this every once and a while, and it'll give Ford and Mabel a chance to do some stuff together, too. Good thinking, kiddo." He praised, wanting to make sure Dipper knew he was happy to spend time with him without giving away just how excited he was.

Dipper brightened and stifled a wide grin before looking down again. "Cool. Sounds good." He replied, feeling more pleased with himself than he'd like to admit. He relished in any positive attention he got from his great-uncles, and held every compliment given to him near and dear.

It was then that they pulled up the house, surprising Dipper. It had seemed like they'd only just gotten in the car! Even so, he was happy to be home, and eagerly jumped out of the car, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he did so.

Stanley got out and went to the trunk, taking the bag from the falls and their takeout from the diner out. He rummaged around in his pocket for his keys as he and Dipper walked to the door, and leaned over the kid to unlock the door and let him in. Dipper entered the house and immediately let his backpack fall to the floor, sighing in relief as he tugged off his shoes and tossed his vest toward the stairs.

"Ya planning on eatin' dinner?" Stanley asked the boy as set their food down on the kitchen table.

His great-nephew looked up and shook his head. "Actually, I'm pretty tired. I think I just wanna go to sleep."

"Hey, I don't blame ya. C'mon, your sleepin' in my room again tonight. I don't want ya falling down the stairs in the middle of the night or somethin'."

Dipper nodded and made his way to Stanley's room, his great-uncle trailing along behind him. Once he'd renewed helped renew the bandages on his head, he'd gotten into his pajamas and then crawled into Stanley's bed, sighing as he did so. Dipper didn't want to admit it, but he was exhausted. He knew that he would be, given the symptoms of a concussion, but he was still embarrassed over his lack of endurance. Even so, sleep was too strong to ignore, and he fell prey to it's influence two mere minutes after he'd initially laid down to rest.

Stanley waited a moment, watching for any signs of a headache or nightmares, before taking his leave and settling down for the night in his favorite chair.

The TV was on and playing an old sitcom the man remembered from a decade or two ago, and he chuckled as he watched it. He'd always liked TV, especially sitcoms. Sure, they were cheesy and unrealistic, but wasn't that what was nice about TV? The characters always loved each other, and even if they didn't initially, they grew to. Even the most dire of problems could be solved within the span of twenty minutes, and there were always hilarious jokes to be told. It was so simple...

 

"YOOOO, MR. PINES!"

Stanley yelped as he woke, jerking his arm away from the mysterious hand waving it around randomly.

"Gah!" He cried, squinting for a moment as he tried to place the odd red-and-green blob in front of him. He rubbed his eyes hurriedly and then blinked, surprised to find none other than Wendy Corduroy standing in front of him.

"Sorry to wake you, dude, but there's a kid's party comin' in soon, and the family specifically requested that you be their tour guide."

Stanley blinked rapidly, still a bit disoriented after having been woken so suddenly. Then, recalling the party Wendy was talking about, he heaved a sigh and ran a hand down his unshaven face. "Shit, yeah. Kid really wanted to show all of his friends Mr. Mystery after he took the tour with his folks. Good money, too. Shit. We gotta cancel."

"What?!" Wendy cried, appalled. She shook her head, long hair swishing back and forth as she did so. "No way, dude, it's the kid's birthday! C'mon, I hung out with Dipper a few days ago, I can watch him again!"

Stan sighed again and shook his head, considering her words for a moment before responding. "No, there's gonna be plenty of parents buyin' their kids stuff, and you're better with kids than Soos. You man the cash register, Soos'll watch Dipper. Tell him to come talk to me first. I'm gonna get ready."

Wendy beamed and punched his arm as the old man stood up with a groan. "I knew you had a soft spot for little kids, Mr. Pines." She teased, grinning.

Stanley merely grunted in response before walking out of the room. By the time he returned, Soos was already there and waiting, standing dutifully beside Stanley's favorite chair with a bright smile and hopeful eyes.

"Hey, Soos. Mind watchin' Dipper for the day?" Stanley asked.

"Of course!" Soos said, eyes widening in surprise. "You're gonna let me look after him alone?"

"Eh? Why shouldn't I? You plannin' on doin' something stupid?"

The younger man shook his head. "No..." He mumbled. "I'm just surprised. It's one thing to take time off work, but for you to do it for a while means that this is serious. Which means you must be being really careful with Dipper. So... You trust me to look out for him that much, Mr. Pines?"

Stanley blinked, dark eyes widening in surprise behind his glasses. "What's that supposed to mean? After everything you've done for us, and for the kids, why wouldn't I? We're your family, right?" He grumbled, looking confused and somewhat annoyed, as if he were relaying the most common information to exist.

Soos melted, eyes going wide and a larger-than-life grin splitting across his tan face simultaneously. "O-Of course! We're family! So... Is there anything I should know about Dipper?"

Stanley sighed. "Maybe I should write you a list..." He said, running a calloused hand through his hair. "He faints. Don't freak out if it happens, just get him somewhere where he can lay flat, once he's conscious again move him somewhere he's comfortable, get 'im some water or somethin', and he should be fine. No matter what he says, no physical activity. Don't let him out of your sight, don't let him stand, walk, run, or anything else, for more than a few minutes, don't let 'im do anything that'll make him think too hard. Make him eat properly, even if he doesn't wanna. If he starts feelin' sick at all or gets a headache, he needs to sleep and you gotta make sure he does."

Soos nodded, gulping as he took all of this in. "Geez, that sounds bad..."

"Yeah, well. Doc says he'll be fine, just gotta give 'im some time. He's not gonna be fully recovered for a month, maybe more depending on how well he listens to her. Judging by how well he listens to everyone else... Well, he might be takin' the long road. He stays put with me, but he's been getting a little more anxious. Don't let him convince you to do anything that'll wear him out."

"Got it. I won't let you down, Mr. Pines!" Soos exclaimed determinedly.

Stanley leaned forward, a small smile on his face. He reached out, ruffling the man's hair affectionately. "Heh. I know ya won't." He replied. Then, clearing his throat awkwardly, he retracted his arm and left the room, calling "Dipper's in my room!" over his shoulder.

Soos smiled, slowly placing the cap he'd been clutching in his hands back on his head. Then, with a smile, he walked into Stanley's room. To his luck, Dipper was just waking up, shifting underneath the thick blankets atop of him and blinking slowly.

"Heyo, dude!" Soos greeted cheerfully, approaching the bed with a smile.

Dipper blinked, looking over in surprise. "Woah, Soos? What're you doing here?" He asked, his voice light and cheerful at the sight of his friend.

"I'm gonna be hangin' out with you today, dude! Mr. Pines had a birthday party he couldn't miss, so we're gonna chill. Sound good?"

Dipper beamed, immediately moving to sit up in a quick movement. "Yeah!" He said excitedly. "I've been looking into this new creature and it should be in the woods, if we get going now we could probably catch it pretty quick—"

"Uh... Sorry, dude," Soos interrupted, happy expression faltering. "We're, uh, not supposed to do a whole lot of physical stuff, so... Is there anything you wanna do, like, inside the house?"

Dipper's face fell, but he nodded in understanding. "Um... I dunno. I can't think of a whole lot to do around here."

Soos glanced around, noting the several books stacked on the nightstand and the countless crumbled pieces of paper littering the floor around the bed. Dipper had probably gotten extremely bored of reading and doing whatever it was he did in his huge journal.

"Well, uh... We could..." Soos faltered and then lit up. "Make an experimental breakfast?"

Dipper blinked, surprised. "Experimental?"

"Y'know, like... Let's try to make somethin' weird, or hard, without a recipe or somethin'." The elder suggested.

At the words, Dipper's pale face split into a huge grin, his warm brown eyes igniting with excitement and joy. "That actually sounds fun." He agreed.

Soos lit up as well. "Awesome!"

Dipper laughed ecstatically, not bothering to act embarrassed about his level of excitement. Apart from the trip to the falls and the diner, he'd spent most of his time sleeping, reading, and drawing, and he'd grown bored of it quickly. Although spending a few days holed up in bed seemed like a very nice way to spend some time, it was consistently boring when you were forced to do so. Now, faced with the most exciting thing he'd been able to do since spending time with Grunkle Stan two days ago, he was more than eager to do something other than lay around.

The boy slid out of bed easily, landing on his feet with a slight thump. Soos stood beside him, eyeing him carefully as they made their way to the kitchen. He pulled out a chair for the boy, but Dipper frowned at the sight of it.

"C'mon, Soos, let's not do this! How am I supposed to experiment when I can't even stand up?" The boy protested, fixing his friend with the biggest puppy dog eyes he could manage.

The elder gazed down at him, his two large front teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he tried in vain to resist the appeal of those big brown eyes. Soos loved his friends, and above all he simply wanted to do what he could to make them happy. Especially Dipper and Mabel, who were more like siblings than friends to him. Anything he could do for the kids, he would, and how could he deny Dipper something so simple as the opportunity to have some fun making experimental breakfasts?

"Oh, alright. But if Stan walks in, you gotta pretend you were just up getting a drink or something, dude! He's really worried about ya."

"Yeah, wouldn't want him to throw a fit," Dipper said light, disbelieving.

"Throw a fit, maybe, but only 'cause he cares about you, dude. The only reason he went to work today was 'cause a little kid scheduled a birthday party here. He's off for the rest of the week, you know."

Dipper blinked, thick brown brows raising in surprise as he looked at the man. He'd had no idea, and he was completely surprised by the information. Grunkle Stan was taking an an entire week off of work, just for him? Considering the man's rather insatiable thirst for wealth, and his dubious methods of achieving it, Dipper had assumed that the man would not sacrifice any money-making opportunities unless it was absolutely imperative.

"Oh. I, uh... I guess I didn't know." Dipper replied, a bit sheepish. "That's... Wow. Huh. Maybe I should talk to him."

**Author's Note:**

> On Dipper and Mabel living in Gravity Falls: I honestly just wanted them to live with their Grunkles without anyone having to die, and so passive parents it was! 
> 
> I wrote this story just after the finale of GF and have finally decided to post it! I apologize in advance for any mistakes! Updates weekly.


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